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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24472495">Four is a Crowd</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Biosahar/pseuds/skai6'>skai6 (Biosahar)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>All 4 idiots meet each other, Anal Sex, Both Geralts are also at each other's throat, Both Geralts are done with them, Brothel visit, Dandelion and Jaskier constantly bitching at each other, Dandelion and The White Wolf are fucking idiots someone please tell them, First Time, Fluff, Game Geralt and Jaskier develop a thing, Hair-pulling, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Making Love, Pining, Praise Kink, Romance, Show Geralt and Dandelion hate them for it, Smut, Yen appears in chapter 11, all four travel together, and she is NICE to jaskier and jaskier hates it, geralt x geralt, m/f/m but not as important</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 02:19:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>38,150</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24472495</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Biosahar/pseuds/skai6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Geralt and Dandelion come across two unconscious bodies nearby their camp.</p><p>Dopplers? Impersonators? Lookalikes? Worse.</p><p>It involves portals, witches and them from another universe.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Game Geralt/Show Jaskier, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Show Geralt/Game Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>592</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1103</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>The Witcher - Various Alternate Universes</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. One Bard is Enough</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So as to avoid confusion between game geralt and show geralt: This chapter is written from Game Geralt's perspective. (Might later change or/and add an additional nickname for Show Geralt) All in all if you keep in mind it's from Game Geralt's perspective here, you will not face any confusion.</p><p>Jaskier and Dandelion keep their respective names. It's easier to follow.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What <em>are</em> they?”</p><p><br/>“Hm. Can’t really tell.”</p><p><br/>Geralt was knee deep in the muddy ground of the swamp, scrutinizing the bodies that materialized out of thin air into their camp's vicinity. It was early dawn, the sun had barely caressed the horizon, and the cold breeze was unbearably chilling to the bone.</p><p><br/>Geralt was not one to linger around unconscious bodies – unless he wanted to get jumped by design – but considering the outer appearance of the two, there was not a chance he could walk away without a minimum of investigation.</p><p><br/>Dandelion stood to his side, barely awake, his hat’s feather battling with the wind as he caught his lute with an unsteady grip, ready to strike at any registered movement. The bodies remained unmoved.</p><p><br/>“Dopplers, you think?” He inquired, quick to answer himself, “No, wait. That doublet with <em>those</em> breeches? I don’t think a doppler would make so grave a mistake. Only idiots are <em>that</em> tremendously unfashionable.”</p><p><br/>Geralt hummed passively as he worked over the appearances of their look-alikes, starting with his own. Sharp jaw, white hair and a heavy build. He recognized several facial distinctness among which a lack of scars and a larger nose caught his peculiar interest. The subject exhibited a younger complexion, too.</p><p><br/>Clearly, whoever he was, the man would immediately be mistaken for Geralt were he to go around anywhere near the populace.</p><p><br/>Geralt moved on to the next subject lying curled to his side with a lute pressed to the chest. He struck Geralt as particularly eye-catching. Chocolate brown curls and soft pale cheeks, young, gentle features. He could hardly imagine anyone believing he was Dandelion. The two were by far on different ends of the similarity spectrum.</p><p><br/>The subject suddenly twitched in his unconscious state, mumbling an unintelligible word Geralt could make as his own name. Behind him, Dandelion swung his lute in the air, ready to strike him down.</p><p><br/>“Wait,” intervened Geralt, signaling him back with a raised hand, “He’s not awake.”</p><p><br/>Hesitantly, Dandelion lowered his arms and let out a dramatic sigh.</p><p><br/>“Impersonators,” he confidently concluded after mustering enough courage to approach the body of the Geralt-look-alike. “That would make perfect sense considering the lack of contracts you’ve been coming across recently. These two must have been going about stealing our identities <em>and</em> money. Although, in all honesty, one must be out of their wits thinking they could pull off pretending to be me.’’</p><p><br/>“Impersonators wouldn’t survive a day in the job,” disclosed Geralt so as to rule out the possibility, ‘’And the bard looks nothing like you. An impersonator would at least try.”</p><p><br/>“Thank you, yes, incredibly accurate an observation, Geralt,” endorsed Dandelion with a nod, “And go on, it’s all right. You can mention my outstanding general handsomeness in comparison. This man’s baby cheeks are not doing me justice.”</p><p><br/>Geralt did not issue any comment, instead, he rose to his feet. </p><p><br/>“Should wake them up.”</p><p><br/>Dandelion watched as Geralt reached for the waterskin and immediately stepped back so as to gain distance from whatever he was about to unleash. </p><p><br/>“Careful, Geralt, will you? The last thing I need is being forced to shatter my lute on yet another common Bard’s face. And you quit looking at me like that, yes, obviously there were others.’’</p><p><br/>With a dry scoff, Geralt clutched his sword handle with one hand and removed the lid from the waterskin with the other. He then flipped the holder and let the water flood out, drenching the two unconscious men awake.</p><p><br/>It was Geralt’s look-alike whose amber eyes flashed open almost instantly. He was swift and unpredictable, and by the time Geralt had unsheathed his sword he was already on his feet, his own sword drawn. The blades clashed in a thundering resonance, their echo rippling across the swamp, and with gritted teeth, Geralt cursed the unanticipated matching strength he was met with.</p><p><br/>“Who the fuck are <em>you</em>?” came the deep growl of his opponent. A tone deep and rugged – just like his.</p><p><br/>“I was hoping <em>you</em> would tell me,” reciprocated Geralt, maintaining his calm demeanor. </p><p><br/>Up close, Geralt could catch further proof of the differences and similarities he shared with him. The golden hues were unmistakably identical to his. The swords bore unmatched handles but their blades were forged from the same metal. The armour was completely foreign, except from the favoring of the charcoal tint, which was something Geralt believed they had in common. </p><p><br/>Then there was the medallion. </p><p><br/>The piece was shaped differently yet Geralt was one glance away from recognizing its infallible authenticity. It was impossible to put a finger on why it struck him as familiar, but the presence of a strong connection to it was absolutely genuine. It was as if it belonged to him from a long forgotten time.</p><p><br/>“Geralt?” called a high voice in the back, shaking him away from his thoughts. “Who are you fight– <em>Oh, what the fuck?!</em>”</p><p><br/>Geralt was taken aback by the other bard’s call, realizing with delay that he was not addressing him. Then his eyes met his, and in those widening blue orbs Geralt saw that he was struggling to make sense of the situation.</p><p><br/>“Stay back, Jaskier,” spoke dryly the other Geralt.</p><p><br/>Then a dramatic laugh resonated in the sun-warmed air.</p><p><br/>“I’m sorry, did you say <em>Jaskier</em>?” snorted Dandelion with uncontrollable laughter. “By the gods, this is far more painful to witness than I have anticipated. Now listen here, <em>bardling</em>, I don’t know what kind of illiterate impersonator school you’ve graduated from, but I’m quite sure <em>using the correct name of your target</em> is supposed to be the number one rule on your list. I mean come on, are you even <em>trying</em>? You look less like a minstrel, more like a horse-kicked <em>slob</em> who fished his clothes out of a pig’s farm. If that horrendous outfit should earn you anything it would be a sentence for tarnishing the name of your profession.”</p><p><br/>Abashed, Jaskier's former state of shock dissipated into thin air to leave place to an expression of pure outrage. Splayed legs, a piercing glare, and a pointy finger rising in threat, Jaskier bit back without an ounce of hesitation.</p><p><br/>“How <em>dare</em> you address me in that tone you half-witted buffoon? One look at you and I can immediately tell apart your kind. A desperate tuneless bastard thinking himself the best of the continent for strumming half a chord and singing about girls he slept with once and left come morn just like mommy once left <em>you</em>.”</p><p><br/>Dandelion paled almost instantly, mouth hanging open and words failing to leave him because <em>how did the little prick know?</em></p><p><br/>“You stupid oaf,” the other continued at will, burning for verbal vengeance, “An imbecile like you shouldn’t even wield a thing of beauty such as that. Do you even realize its worth or did you just happen to haul it out of your grandmother’s basement? Oh please. Any simpleton can wave around an instrument and call himself a troubadour. I’ve seen enough of your kind. Valdo Marx scum, all of you. Pre-mature range and vocal chords that screech like a mid-mating dying <em>cock</em> .’’</p><p><br/>Dandelion coloured with both anger and humiliation because <em>how dare this little shit backtalk him!</em> His previous stance of confidence was gone, replaced by an expression of pure savagery as <em>he was out for blood</em>. He stomped over to his bastard of a look-not-so-alike, eyebrows sinking so low in his forehead they nearly met.</p><p><br/>“You little <em>prat</em>! I hope you’re aware your pitiful existence alone is enough to earn you a royal spanking!” </p><p><br/>But then Dandelion’s temper subdued and he crossed his arms, clicked his tongue, and sought to mutter his next utterance in a calmer tone.</p><p><br/>“I hate your guts but I do admit I particularly enjoyed the bit with Valdo Marx. I take it you know the guy?”</p><p><br/>“Oh I do,” groaned Jaskier, unshaken by his switching attitude, “but does a man wish to? <em>Gods no.</em> The shit is as terrible a howler as they can get. I would rather listen to the squeaking of a constipated cow than witness another of his performances.”</p><p><br/>“Geralt!” barked Dandelion all of a sudden, turning his head to him, lips wearing a proud grin. “Do me a favor and kill this one last, will you? I strangely enjoy his attitude.”</p><p><br/>Geralt could hardly follow what was happening over on Dandelion’s side. Reason behind it was, his attacker – Geralt number two – was continuously swinging his sword at him with utmost precision, dodging every delivered attack to the point that he began wondering if he weren’t a mind reader.</p><p><br/>“Now unless you want me to beat it out of you,” came the familiar grunt. “Tell me who the fuck you are and why you’re pretending to be me.”</p><p><br/>Geralt scoffed, unwavering.</p><p><br/>“Could ask you the same.”</p><p><br/>‘’Not a Doppler,’’ he guessed, feet moving carefully to the side. ‘’Scar-faced. You look <em>nothing</em> like me.’’</p><p><br/>‘’Yet I bear your name,’’ reciprocated Geralt as a matter of fact. “Can’t be a sorcerer either, I hear you thinking. Won’t be able to bear <em>this</em> otherwise.’’</p><p><br/>Geralt was hinting at the medallion around his neck. The other seemed to have picked up on its shape, and stared holes into it in an attempt to find a flaw in its making – from the sterile look on his face, Geralt assumed, he couldn’t.</p><p><br/>“Fuck that,’’ he grunted, “You expect me to believe you’re what? A witcher who happens to look like my lesser, slightly older twin? <em>Bullshit</em>.”</p><p><br/>“Faster and stronger than you, too,” added Geralt with the hint of a smirk.</p><p><br/>The tension boiled into rising. Swords were clenched and breaths were hitched. Any second now, each thought to himself, any second now he would deliver the final blow.</p><p><br/>“Wait, wait, wait!” </p><p><br/>Swift feet came shuffling in and both men were taken by surprise. The <em>other</em> bard, Jaskier, stood amidst their ground with his arms raised in protest, striving to intervene and careless of just how dangerous a situation he was swinging himself into.</p><p><br/>“Stay out of this, Jaskier,” warned the other.</p><p><br/>“No, no, Geralt, <em>listen</em>,” insisted Jaskier with panic, “Look around you. This is nowhere near our camp.”</p><p><br/>With a shaken frown, Geralt took a step back and allowed himself a quick glance to scan his surroundings. The realization hit him with delay.</p><p><br/>“Fuck.”</p><p><br/>“At least <em>that</em>, you two have in common,” mocked Dandelion, hinting at the undying habit for witchers to curse their way through every minor nuisance. “You two lost your way around or something? For input, you scared the life out of us when you just magically dropped nearby. I thought I heard a <em>poof</em>. Or maybe it was a <em>voom</em> of sort. I don’t quite remember but it was the kind of noise a portal from hell would make. And yes, this was a <em>burn</em> delivered by yours truly. Gods I should consider a career as a comedian.”</p><p><br/>Jaskier had at least five different snarky remarks ready to slip out of his tongue like poison to bite back at Dandelion’s comment but only then and there, it hit him.</p><p><br/>“<em>Oh, Geralt</em>,” he moaned in distress, face paling, “Please tell me this isn’t what I think it is!”</p><p><br/>“The witch's portal,” inhaled the other sharply, “This is a fucking mess.”</p><p><br/>The tension subdued after that and Geralt was first to lower his sword. His counterpart followed suit, yet chose to keep an eye on Geralt’s blade until it clicked inside his scabbard.</p><p><br/>“Well, well,” hummed Dandelion, raising a hand to motion about. “I see that we are slowly getting <em>somewhere</em>. So you are neither Impersonators nor dopplers. Which leaves room to only one explanation.”</p><p><br/>“You jumped out of your time,” stated Geralt, arms crossed over his chest and a hint of amusement tugging at the corner of his lips, “They say never to mess with a witch’s portal. Congratulations. Even I can be dumb.”</p><p><br/>“Wait, excuse me – What?!” yelled Jaskier, mouth agape. “Are you telling me that <em>he</em> is…”</p><p><br/>He paused, took an overly-dramatized look at Dandelion and wore an expression of utter horror.</p><p><br/>“<em>No</em>. No, no, no. Geralt, please tell me this isn’t happening. I can’t be <em>him</em>!”</p><p><br/>“<em>He</em> is called Dandelion,” disclosed the bard with a sunken frown and a pleased grin, “That, dear buttercup, is a title worthy of a famous balladeer. Oh, and by the way, I was wondering. Have you ever serenaded an actual audience? Farm animals don’t count.”</p><p><br/>“You take that <em>back</em>! Or else, gods help me, I will –“</p><p><br/>“Shut up, both of you.”</p><p><br/>The other Geralt had achieved what Geralt was desperate for: Blessed silence. He was thoughtful and vaguely disoriented, hissing lowly in a manner Geralt read as discomfort – and he decided to never hiss again because it really makes him look funny.</p><p><br/>“I don’t care who or what the fuck the two of you are. I don’t have time for this. Jaskier. Let’s go.”</p><p><br/>Geralt turned around and began distancing himself from the other three. Jaskier followed after him immediately, then jumped into his path to bring the man to a halt before he could tread any further.</p><p><br/>‘’Wait. Geralt, listen! As awkward a meeting as this is, think about it. <em>This</em> is <em>their</em> world. Wouldn’t it make much more sense to get them to help us? We could do with the spare hands to catch the witch. I mean we singlehandedly failed at that, already, didn’t we?”</p><p><br/>The witcher hummed disapprovingly, yet didn’t brush past him just yet. He was considering the suggestion.</p><p><br/>“You should listen to your bard,” announced Geralt from behind. “If we give you a hand, you’ll be out of our hair sooner. We both get what we want.”</p><p><br/>“Clever,” nodded Dandelion with a spark of joy. “I cannot for the life of me begin to imagine existing in the same world as a bard who calls himself <em>buttercup</em>. I say we find that witch and boot them back through the portal. Happy ending for everyone.”</p><p><br/>“No,’’ grunted Geralt over his shoulder. “Last thing I want is to clean up a mess with another <em>me</em>. I don’t need your help.”</p><p><br/>‘’Geralt,” interrupted Jaskier dryly, breathing sharply out of his nose, “Your concerning self-loathing attitude aside, have you not heard of collective voting? Three on one, dear witcher. You can’t possibly wiggle your way out of this unless you wish to play tyrannical leader. You wouldn’t want that, now, would you? What would become of the delicately crafted image of humanity’s friend, think about it!”</p><p><br/>“Don’t start,” groaned Geralt instantly.</p><p><br/>A faint, rugged chuckle escaped Geralt, gaining him a bitter stare from his counterpart. There was no helping it. No matter the universe, a bard was always bound to outtalk a witcher.</p><p><br/>“Something funny?” He barked at him.</p><p><br/>“Contemplating switching bards,” hummed Geralt proudly, “Yours uses his last brain cell better.”</p><p><br/>Next to him, Dandelion threw him a glare so piercing he could feel it burn a hole into his skin. Jaskier, on the other hand, was glowing with joy.</p><p><br/>“You heard that, Geralt?” He teased, “It’s the sound of someone appreciating my gods-given wit. <em>You</em>, dear, should start taking notes.”</p><p><br/><em> “You heard that Geralt?</em>” mocked Dandelion under his breath, turning to his own companion, “That’s the sound of our friendship ending, you <em>dick</em>.”</p><p><br/>So amused Geralt was, he belatedly noticed that the accumulated tension had long dissipated, leaving room to two sarcastic fools and two stubborn mules and one common ground under their feet, barely holding them together.</p><p><br/>“Fine,” came the awaited answer. “I’ll have your help. If it means that this…” He tipped his head towards the two bards, “Will stop.”</p><p><br/>‘’See? That wasn’t so hard. And trust me, I can barely begin to imagine walking alongside that gigolo over there –“ There was a loud<em> I heard that</em> spat in the background which Jaskier completely ignored, “But once this is done, we can all go back home and remember this as a funny tale to entertain the folk with.”</p><p><br/>There was a moment of silence and Jaskier took it as cue to continue expressing himself abundantly. His eyes fluttered shut and his head tipped back so as to deeply breathe in the air – the foul swamp air, mind you – around him.</p><p><br/>“Ah, what a day! Is it just me or is everyone starting to warm up to the idea of a grand adventure? I call it <em>The Witch Hunt</em>. Yes, yes, I can see it. The marvelous, astonishing ballad written to its name. Ah, the chill of excitement! Spirit of teamwork, anyone?”</p><p><br/>Jaskier's companion rolled his eyes, and without a word, turned around to seek where to set his own camp because <em>neither now nor ever will he share one with himself</em>. Dandelion, still horribly bitter at Geralt’s comment, followed suit and started towards their own camp, huffing and puffing as he swaggered away. Jaskier, now standing alone, reopened his eyes to find, with awkwardness, that he was left alone.</p><p><br/>Except he wasn’t, not completely. Geralt was still there, listening to his ongoing ramblings until he was fully satiated then he approached him with a relaxed smile.</p><p><br/>“Jaskier, was it? Consider me impressed. Doing a fine job handling a grouchier version of me.”</p><p><br/>Jaskier eyed him like one would a talking statue because first, who out of their right mind would listen to his endless rambling without getting bored half-way through – which happened so many times with <em>his</em> Geralt he lost count – and scampering off elsewhere? Second, was he genuinely smiling at him and complimenting him at the same time or was Jaskier hallucinating in bright daylight? He pinched his side just to make sure and <em>sweet gods, this was real.</em></p><p><br/>Then suddenly he beamed, his face lighting up with merry pride and eyes shining with pure delight. He pushed his luck a little further and, pointing a playful finger at Geralt’s chest, spoke the first words that came to his mouth. </p><p><br/>“You, my dear witcher, should be careful lest you wish to sweep a bard off his feet.”</p><p><br/>And although he didn’t admit it at first, those words moved something in Geralt he never saw coming.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. White Wolf's Just Fine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Oh god, I love all of you who have read, left kudos, and commented on this work! I am in the clouds seeing just how many of you are enjoying this ride as much as I am. </p><p>As I promised to some of you on tumblr, here is the second chapter. Enjoy!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In a small village somewhere in the continent, two fools and two brutes walked into a tavern.</p><p> </p><p>The barkeeper rummaged through the racks with shaking hands, seeking to serve his best liquor. His wife scrambled to the kitchen to unfold all remaining ingredients into the making of a worthy meal. The other customers interrupted all ongoing conversations to steal wary glances at the table in the far corner of the tavern where the four seated themselves. Hushed words were whispered in between.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Two witchers and two bards. This must be a bad omen. This must be the end of time.</em>
</p><p><br/>
"Isn't it simply delightful?’’ purred Jaskier, oblivious to his surroundings, "Heart-warming food, mouthwatering ale and a comfortable bed to lie our sore backs on. I can almost feel the silkiness of the delicate sheets against my skin as it tenderly embraces my aching body and let me sink so blissfully deep into a world of wonders I have long  –‘’</p><p><br/>
"It's hardly been three days,’’ cut his universe’s Geralt. He was seated to his right, nestling his ale. "And we’re not welcome here. We’d be lucky if we get rooms.’’</p><p><br/>
"Three days in the pits of <em>hell</em>, my friend,’’ stressed Jaskier in lament, ignoring his latter statement, "I will never get used to sleeping on bare ground like some filthy hound, let alone in the company of one <em>very</em> loud individual. No offense Dandelion, but the snoring, <em>good lord,</em> I cannot for the life of me live with that. It’s like a congested donkey in <em>heat</em>.’’</p><p>"Offense very much taken,’’ mouthed Dandelion across from him with a frown, "Nevertheless, there's more to our current situation than food, ale and a bed. A warm bath and wonderful company would be extra exquisite. Nothing could quite overcome the tiredness of travel better than a warm dip to suppress the soreness and a lovely lady to share a fervent night with. Don’t you agree, other Geralt? Oh come to think of it, it is about grand time we decided on a nickname as I have had quite enough of you barking <em>No</em> every time you hear someone as much as utter the first syllable.’’</p><p><br/>
"Don’t care,’’ he grumbled, "My name’s fine as it is.’’</p><p><br/>
"Taken,’’ mouthed his counterpart, seated across the table right next to Dandelion. "My world, my claim.’’ </p><p><br/>
The two exchanged a sullen glare.</p><p><br/>
"Very well,’’ expressed Dandelion, averting the attention to himself, "I will go ahead first and suggest to call you the White Wolf. Simple and to the point. Any better ideas?’’</p><p><br/>
‘‘Yes,’’ announced Jaskier dryly, one hand stretching to introduce his companion. "Ladies and gentlemen, I present you the one and only. The butcher of Bla – "</p><p><br/>
"White Wolf's just fine,’’ barked the man in question, "And to answer <em>you</em>. I would do with a bath and no <em>fucking</em> bards around.’’</p><p><br/>
"I take it you have had enough of yours,’’ riposted Dandelion, "Which I can relate to. He’s a terrible company and a charmless fool.’’</p><p><br/>
"Oh come now,’’ scoffed Jaskier with an eye roll, "Isn’t it about time you pulled your slander game out of the rut or does humour naturally degrade with old age?’’</p><p><br/>
At that, the man next to Dandelion spat his ale. </p><p><br/>
"I hope you choke to death, Geralt,’’ muttered the bitter bard without as much as looking his way.</p><p><br/>
Jaskier's laugh resonated in triumph which gained him more wary looks he never happened to notice. The reason behind it was simple. Jaskier was smitten.</p><p><br/>
Leaning into the table, he crossed his slender fingers, ran a swift tongue over his lips, and took an eyeful of his – as of late – favourite witcher. A spark of fondness caressed his features and he waited until the man was done drinking and raising his head from his tankard to flash him a most alluring smile.</p><p><br/>
"What about <em>you</em>, my dear witcher?’’ He purred in a sultry voice, his stretched fingers now nearly touching the other’s tankard, "Any fun activities you are particularly looking forward to indulging in this fine evening?’’</p><p><br/>
"Hm.’’ Geralt's weight dropped in his seat and he tipped his head vaguely to the side so as to leer at the other, "Any suggestions?’’</p><p><br/>
Immediately after that, a look of disgust was exchanged between Dandelion and the White Wolf.</p><p><br/>
<em>"No, no, no, no.</em> Not in my watch!’’ objected Dandelion, pointing an angry finger at Jaskier, "There must be an inter-dimensional travel rulebook <em>somewhere</em> that gives me a bloody say in this and <em>I</em> say don’t you <em>dare</em> even think about it! For gods sake, White Wolf, say something. You – <em>Where the hell are you going?</em>’’</p><p><br/>
The witcher was already rising to his feet, muttering "Not enough ale,’’ and trudging to the counter to scare off the people sitting there. </p><p><br/>
"You, sir, are just bitter that Geralt and I are getting along far better than the rest of you,’’ admitted Jaskier with pride.</p><p><br/>
"It's not my fault that your universe’s Geralt is so <em>cranky</em>,’’ spat Dandelion, "I would be, too, if I had you as a travel companion. Now where the hell are <em>you</em> too going?!’’</p><p><br/>
Beside him, Geralt had finished his ale and stood up.</p><p><br/>
"Taking a piss. Don’t miss me.’’</p><p><br/>
Dandelion rolled his eyes. "Who out of their right mind would do such a thing?’’ </p><p><br/>
"I would,’’ confessed Jaskier without an ounce of hesitation.</p><p><br/>
This earned him a guttural purr from the witcher who, while reaching to gather his empty tankard, slightly brushed his fingers against the back of Jaskier’s hand, and with a poised smile, finally turned to walk away.</p><p><br/>
"Strike me blind, oh blissful gods!’’ lamented Dandelion, wearing an expression of utter disgust, "I said it before and I shall say it again. I, Dandelion, despise <em>you</em>, Jaskier, with every fiber of my being. Now more than ever!’’</p><p><br/>
"Mutual sentiment.'' Jaskier then turned to fetch his lute, "Dear despicable Dandelion. What say you to settling this the old fashioned way: a challenge of skills. You and I get to play for these sad looking faces and whomever serenades them first claims the title of the <em>better</em> version.’’</p><p><br/>
"You <em>fool</em>,’’ mocked Dandelion, "You are at least <em>ten years</em> too early to challenge me to my own game. Now get off your arse and fetch some ointment because you are about to get the whooping of the <em>decade</em>.’’</p><p><br/>
And with that, the primarily tense atmosphere of the tavern subdued. The tunes of coherent vocals and rhythmic melody led the crowd to gather around the minstrels with newfound entertainment. Ale flowed abundantly and laughter echoed in the air. Those in the crowd who recognized the tunes were soon joining in to sing along.</p><p><br/>
When Geralt returned, it was to an unfamiliar tavern. He saw Jaskier and Dandelion strumming and singing to their heart’s content – and enjoying themselves like never before – and decided to stand there listening to them for a while before joining the White Wolf at the counter.</p><p><br/>
"Took two bards to earn us a stay,’’ he announced, occupying the adjacent seat.</p><p><br/>
The White Wolf hummed – the kind that translated among the lines of<em> fuck off</em> – but Geralt enjoyed pretending not to take a hint.</p><p><br/>
"Travelling with him for long?’’ he inquired, looking over his shoulder to catch sight of Jaskier. The bard had slipped past the tables and stopped to serenade a group of overly-excited ladies.</p><p><br/>
He received a scoff. "You're into bards now?’’</p><p><br/>
Geralt’s attention drifted back to him at first, then to the barkeeper who practically jumped to his call.</p><p><br/>
"Ale,’’ he ordered, then effortlessly answered, "Bards? No. <em>Your</em> bard? Maybe.’’</p><p><br/>
He caught a twitch of his eyebrow – the <em>are you fucking serious</em> kind – but didn’t comment.</p><p><br/>
"Twenty two years and counting,’’ came his reply.</p><p><br/>
The ale was served and Geralt picked up the tankard to chug a good half down.</p><p><br/>
"Making it sound like a curse,’’ he said.</p><p><br/>
"He's <em>fine</em>. Can be over the top, occasionally. Still won’t consider myself exactly charmed.’’</p><p><br/>
"Good,’’ he took another swig, "Keep it that way.’’</p><p><br/>
Then Geralt finished his drink and ordered another round, except this time, he offered his company an extra. The White Wolf sneered at the sight of free liquor.</p><p><br/>
"Thought you’d know better,’’ he mentioned, turning to catch his glance, "Even <em>I</em> can’t buy me.’’</p><p><br/>
"Hm,’’ scoffed Geralt, "Give it five rounds.’’</p><p><br/>
The White Wolf let out an amused grunt, then went straight to chugging the content of his tankard and the next five that followed.</p><p><br/>
By the time the bards were done singing – and completely forgetting they were supposed to be holding a challenge until the very end and deciding to call it a truce – it was shortly past midnight and the crowd had called it a night. The barkeeper was so pleased with their performance he offered them the last two rooms available for a free stay. Everyone was delighted.</p><p><br/>
Until the moment arrived when they had to decide who would share a room with whom, then Dandelion and Jaskier broke into yet another endless quarrel on how they would rather <em>die</em> than share the same bed. </p><p><br/>
"The <em>snoring</em>!’’ fussed Jaskier, tossing his arms about,’’ For the love of the gods, I cannot stand it for yet another night. It’s bad for the heart to constantly wake up seized with panic thinking monster whales had finally invaded the lands!’’ </p><p><br/>
"I beg your pardon?’’ gasped Dandelion, infuriated, "If anyone should be complaining it’s me for putting up with your rotten egg smelling <em>feet</em> for these past three days! By Melitele, how are you not suffocating in your own sleep? It's like someone opened a jar of all that is wrong with this world and left it in the sun to wither! The foul smell alone could wipe entire <em>Nilfgaard</em> off the map!’’</p><p><br/>
The two were standing in the corridor, bickering back and forth while crowding the space that led to the guest rooms. Geralt and the White Wolf stood aside, desperate to see this through. </p><p><br/>
"Pick a damn room already,’’ groaned the White Wolf, "We don’t have all night.’’</p><p><br/>
"<em>Fine</em>!’’ spat Jaskier, ‘’I shall share a room with the White Wolf then. We are quite used to it by now, aren’t we, dear friend?’’</p><p><br/>
He received a dry groan.</p><p><br/>
"That won’t be possible!’’ protested Dandelion, arms crossed, "Geralt and I are not on speaking terms. Not since his most recent display of notable <em>prickness</em>. I refuse to share a room with him.’’</p><p><br/>
Geralt shrugged indifferently. </p><p><br/>
"There is one way,’’ he voiced, "Dandelion and the White Wolf share a room. Jaskier and I the other. Unless more of you are not on <em>speaking terms</em>, it should be fine.’’</p><p><br/>
Dandelion eyed the White Wolf then Jaskier, then nodded. "I don’t see why it shouldn’t work.’’</p><p><br/>
Jaskier reciprocated with a nod, "I would agree simply because it’s <em>Geralt’s</em> idea.’’</p><p><br/>
"For all I care, so long I get some peaceful sleep,’’ bickered Dandelion. </p><p><br/>
Then the two turned away from each other and each swaggered to his room with a puffed out chest and not one look over the shoulder. </p><p><br/>
"I don’t usually <em>ask</em> for favors but,’’ groaned the White Wolf before Geralt could make to his room, "Keep it <em>down</em>. Last thing I want is to hear my own grunting through the walls.’’</p><p><br/>
He then distanced himself to disappear behind the door.</p><p> </p><p>**</p><p> </p><p>Dandelion laid his lute carefully on the night stand, kicked off his shoes and stretched his arms before sprawling on the only bed available. As much as he despised admitting it aloud, Jaskier was right about the comfort of a bed being the ultimate delight of a town's visit.</p><p><br/>
Surely, he wouldn’t turn down a lovely company were there to be one around. The ladies at the tavern tonight were all wedded – not that it ever stopped a man of his charm – but with their husbands sitting right under their bosoms, one had to show some self-restrain.</p><p><br/>
Yet the situation did not bother Dandelion the least now that they had plenty of time for opportunities to rise. The witch hunt, as Jaskier called it, had run stale, and so far, remaining in a village and listening to the rumours in the breeze deems to be the only option the four of them had left. </p><p><br/>
Dandelion hummed comfortably and made of visiting a brothel his next day's main plan. Perhaps he should even drag Geralt along. Being around that prick of a bard had done him no good. A change of air was necessary to make him see reason again in a lovely behind.</p><p><br/>
The door clicked shut and the White Wolf unloaded his apparel on the nearest dresser. He removed his armor, stripped down to his casual clothing and sat by the window with a knife in hand, carving at a piece of wood he looted from around the house. </p><p><br/>
"You're not coming to bed?’’ wondered Dandelion, "There is plenty of room here, dear friend.’’</p><p><br/>
"Not tired,’’ came the sterile answer. </p><p><br/>
Dandelion pushed himself up to sit against the headboard, hands crossed behind his head as he stretched his legs to the edge of the bed, relishing the comfort.</p><p><br/>
"Are you always this broody or is today your special day?’’ He inquired with feeble interest, "Jaskier can be a handful, I understand, but you have nothing to fear from me except perhaps the occasional outburst of my magical vocals.’’ </p><p><br/>
Geralt chose not answer him. Back crouched, he was deeply concentrated in his woodcarving.</p><p><br/>
"Come now, we are both aware a witcher and a bard make a fantastic pair,’’ he insisted, "Geralt and I, for instance, have been good friends for decades. I put up with his occasional bastardness and he with mine. We work quite well, I must say. I assume the same goes for you?’’</p><p><br/>
Geralt seemed to try hard to ignore him, but the silence was so deafeningly awkward he had to raise his head at last.</p><p><br/>
‘‘We weren't friends,’’ he said, "Not at first. I still don’t exactly call him that to his face. Too inconvenient.’’</p><p><br/>
Dandelion's eyebrows quirked.</p><p><br/>
"You have been travelling together for <em>years</em> and you haven’t once told him he was your friend?’’</p><p><br/>
"We travelled on and off,’’ he corrected, "We split up at times. Mostly when I lost my patience and pushed him away.’’</p><p><br/>
Eyes now squinting, Dandelion rose upwards to sit at the edge of the bed, keen to learn more.</p><p><br/>
"When was your last quarrel?’’</p><p><br/>
Geralt shrugged, his back facing him again. "Couple of months,’’ he said, then returned to his carving.</p><p><br/>
"Reason?’’</p><p><br/>
''None,’’ stated the witcher, "Bad timing. Lost patience. Barked at him on a mountain. We met months later by accident and picked up where we left off.’’</p><p><br/>
"And you apologized, of course?’’ </p><p><br/>
There was another shrug, then there was nothing. </p><p><br/>
Dandelion's eyebrows started sinking to the top of his nose. He rose himself from the bed and approached the White Wolf with a full fledged frown.</p><p><br/>
"Wait, let me summarize this,’’ he started, arms akimbo, "<em>You</em> lashed out on your bard, ditched him on a mountain for the wolves and gods know what lives in there to feast upon, met him <em>months</em> later and never once though of apologizing. What in the <em>bloody</em> <em>hell</em> is wrong with you?!</p><p><br/>
Geralt threw him a remorseful frown. "Why does it matter? We’re <em>fine</em> now.’’</p><p><br/>
"Why does it matter?’’ He retaliated, "<em>Why does it fucking matter</em>?! <em>You</em> tell me, you self-centered prick! And you call yourself humanity’s <em>friend</em>? You are everything that is wrong with friendship, and I sure hope you trip off a mountain and die, because with that attitude of yours –"</p><p><br/>
And for the next twenty minutes to come, Dandelion managed to lecture the White Wolf on everything wrong he has done to Jaskier in the behalf of every bard alive. </p><p><br/>
The resonance of his high-pitched voice seeped trough the walls and reached the room opposite theirs. Jaskier, who was standing behind the door with his ear pressed to the wooden surface, was wondering what the muffled fuss was all about as he could not quite make out the words.</p><p><br/>
"I sure hope they don’t end up slaughtering each other,’’ he snorted, amused, "Though honestly, I wouldn't miss Dandelion one bit. The White Wolf? Perhaps solely for the sake of adventure.’’</p><p><br/>
A relaxed hum reached him from inside the room. Jaskier turned to catch sight of Geralt standing at the bedside, freshly discarded armor, his shirt soon to follow. He gaped at the amount of scars he uncovered underneath and marveled at his attractive built in a manner he had never experienced towards the White Wolf. Although they were supposed to be two of the same, the air about Geralt was something else entirely. The collected demeanor, the relaxed shoulders, the shadow of a smile hiding under his white beard, it was as if Geralt was as content as Jaskier to be here, in his presence. </p><p><br/>
And the sudden urge to trail his fingertips across his skin sparked in him like wildfire. </p><p><br/>
"Jaskier,’’ came the interrupting, gentle voice, "You’re staring.’’</p><p><br/>
Distracted, Geralt’s eyes found him from across the room and Jaskier could only stare back longingly. </p><p><br/>
"A humble man takes what he is given,’’ he mused in a coyly air, and Geralt chuckled.</p><p><br/>
<em>He chuckled!</em>
</p><p><br/>
"Bath’s ready,’’ he informed, "Mind if I go in?’’</p><p><br/>
"Oh no, by all means, you go ahead''. Then his palms came pressing against the door and he rested his entire weight back into it. ‘’Unless, of course, you are inviting me to join you, an offer I would be delighted to accept. Now, obviously I am joking. Please do never take my rambling serious –‘’</p><p><br/>
"I don’t mind sharing,’’ came the immediate reply. Now Geralt had begun unlacing his breeches and Jaskier could not for the love of the gods take his eyes off him.</p><p><br/>
"I was <em>joking</em>, Geralt,’’ moaned the bard, breathless, "Look, how about you go in first and I go in after you? Besides, I'm still curious so as to witness who kills whom first across the hall.’’</p><p><br/>
There was another stretched gutted hum that sent the hair in the back of Jaskier’s neck standing. Geralt was soon out of his breeches and the sight was – gods brace this smitten bard – <em>splendid</em>.</p><p><br/>
Yet instead of heading straight to the door which connected their room to the bathing space, Geralt advanced, in all his glory, towards him.</p><p><br/>
Jaskier subconsciously pressed himself against the door. His heart bounced wildly in his chest and the butterflies in his stomach grew untamed when Geralt leaned so awfully close. He tilted his head to the side and displayed an affectionate smile and Jaskier melted into a puddle. If this was how mutual attraction felt like then <em>sign him the fuck up. </em></p><p><br/>
"My hair needs rinsing,’’ Geralt hummed, then reached to undo the knot and loosen his white strands. "Could use a hand.’’</p><p><br/>
Jaskier could die in peace right then and there. Instead, he chose to muster the last bits of courage left in him to lean into the other and whisper suavely into his ear.</p><p><br/>
"Lucky you, then, ‘cause I happen to have <em>two</em>.’’</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I know you probably hate me for ending it there but reasons are:  I was excited to share this passage, I decided to keep each chapter roughly around 3000 words, I need to ask if all of you are on board for some smutty Game Geralt/Jaskier time.</p><p>Let me know in the comments :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Make You Mine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>All of you lovely readers asked for it and here I deliver.</p><p>Ps: Smut, a lot of it.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>The damp air, the steaming hot water, the perfect temperature to extract every ounce of tiredness from his rigid muscles, Geralt thought his evening couldn’t get any better. Among all the quality liquor he drained and the hearty meals he consumed, it was the company of one particular bard which decided to notably entice him.</p><p><br/>Jaskier's presence alone had him inhale solely through his mouth, and even then his nostrils would occasionally flare with the addictive fragrance he emitted. A mixture of lavender and jasmine and something that was purely and strongly Jaskier. </p><p><br/>But Geralt knew better than to give in to his senses, for the last thing he wanted was to scare off the bard. <em>Take it slow,</em> he reminded himself constantly. The pair of delicate yet steady hands massaging his scalp made the task difficult. The intimate tone of his accompanying melody even more so. </p><p><br/>"Should be enough,’’ announced Geralt with a restless sigh.</p><p><br/>"Not quite,’’ replied the bard while rinsing the soap off the white strands. "I haven’t gotten around adding the aromatic oils just yet. Trust me, dear, once I’m done with it, your hair will smell like a garden blossoming amidst a glorious spring.’’</p><p><br/>Geralt had no say in the matter, and even though his patience was drawing thin, he found solace in letting Jaskier do with his hair as he pleased. The oils were applied with delicacy and quite happy with the outcome, Jaskier tipped his nose against the top of Geralt’s head to inhale the resulting aroma.</p><p><br/>"You smell fantastic.’’</p><p><br/>Geralt subconsciously reached for his wrist and tugged at it gently.</p><p><br/>"Join me.’’</p><p><br/>"Oh I would love to, but I still haven't scrubbed your back just yet, if you could only give me a second –‘’</p><p><br/>"Jaskier,’’ stressed Geralt, voice strained. "I want you to join me <em>now</em>.’’</p><p><br/>Jaskier emitted a merry chuckle then rested his palms on Geralt’s shoulders and leaned closer to his ear. </p><p><br/>"Impatient, are we?’’</p><p><br/>And the pit of Geralt's stomach fluttered. <em>Yes</em>, he admitted to himself, <em>he</em> <em>was.</em></p><p><br/>"Very well, then,’’ he mused fondly, then strolling to the other end of the tub, with his back facing Geralt, he began to undress.</p><p><br/>First the white chemise slipped to the floor, then the loose breeches followed, and finally the undergarment. The sight of his exposed neck, his broad shoulders, his slick behind, glistening under the light of the candles, was a feast to the eyes. The one thing which caught Geralt off-guard, however, was the blatant scent of arousal that suddenly exploded in the air. Under the surface of the water, Geralt's cock throbbed.</p><p><br/>"Here I come.’’</p><p><br/>Jaskier dipped the first leg inside the tub then the other, sending the water level to rise a few inches. He blissfully exhaled when his body was submerged.</p><p>Droplets of water lingered on his neck. Geralt followed their course as they loitered on their way down to his chest, captured by the pattern of hair that adorned the surface of his skin. He raised his glance to half-lidded ocean blues, catching him staring. </p><p>Something in them told Geralt he wasn’t the only one expectant. </p><p><br/>"You like what you see?’’ teased Jaskier, teeth subtly tugging at his bottom lip, "It's all right, you can let your eyes wander.’’</p><p><br/>The bathtub was too crowded to accommodate two adult men, which had Jaskier’s calves press to Geralt’s thighs in order to fit. Geralt realized with delay that he was brushing his legs against him, seeking friction.</p><p><br/>"Turn around,’’ he demanded, "Let me return the favor.’’</p><p><br/>"As in scrubbing my hair or …’’ and Jaskier let the sentence hang in the air, pregnant with promise.</p><p><br/>"Depends. What’s the second option?’’</p><p><br/>He caught him gathering his legs together, one of his hands leaving the edge of the tub to sink under the surface. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Fuck, he was touching himself.</em>
</p><p><br/>"You asked me for suggestions earlier,’’ he said, lips parting, the tip of his tongue grazing over them. His cheeks gained a flushed complexion in the heat. "Lucky you, I happen to have several.’’</p><p><br/>"I'd take you on that offer,’’ admitted Geralt, jaw clenched, "<em>After</em> I’d washed your hair.’’</p><p><br/>Jaskier's head was sent back laughing.</p><p><br/>"I bet you I will remember that promise.’’ </p><p><br/>Jaskier then shifted in his position to fit in between Geralt’s legs. Geralt reached for the soap bar and began working his short curls. He made a delighted noise and leaned back into the touch.</p><p><br/>"This reminds me of the first time I bathed the White Wolf,’’ narrated Jaskier absentmindedly, "Minus the mutual hair washing, of course, as I was mostly cleaning <em>him</em>. We had known each other for quite some time but even then, he was still a grumpy brute. It’s hard to believe the two of you are the same person. You’re like complete opposites.’’</p><p><br/>"You're close,’’ said Geralt as a matter of fact, “You and him.”</p><p><br/>“We’re quite good friends, yes. Inseparable, too,’’ he admitted, “Well except that <em>one</em> time he barked at me on a mountain to have me gone. It was unnecessarily harsh, I admit, and I fantasized about stabbing him in my sleep for months, but he wasn’t exactly in his right mind back then either. Heartbreak and all that.”</p><p><br/>Geralt stiffened at the revealed news but he knew better than to interrupt his story-telling. He took the time to pour water over Jaskier's head and worked his fingers through his locks to rinse out the soap. He reached for the collection of oil next when the other picked up where he left.</p><p><br/>“I was terribly naive back then, also. I've done things I was ashamed of, but even then the White Wolf remained by my side. The only constancy in my life. So months later when we reunited quite by accident and he approached me like nothing ever happened, my anger towards him dissipated into thin air and I forgave him. You may think me a fool for doing so, surely, without as much as earning the oh-so-dreamed-of stab, and perhaps I <em>was</em>. But see, at the end of the day, Geralt is my closest friend.’’</p><p><br/>The subtle switch from calling him the White Wolf to using his first name struck Geralt with blatant jealousy. He was angry at himself – his other universe’s self to be precise – and made a mental note to teach him a lesson come tomorrow.</p><p><br/>"Anyway,’’ resumed Jaskier, waving his hand in the air dismissively, "All of that is in the past. As of now, I am blessed to be relishing this delightful, exquisite bath with a man as gorgeous as – <em>Oh, Geralt</em>, are you sure you want to take this slow? Your <em>friend</em> seems to disagree.’’</p><p><br/>Jaskier had shifted in his seat and managed to entrap Geralt’s pulsating rod between them. He took pleasure in extracting a tremulous  groan from the man, and with a sly chuckle, turned his head to relish the aftermath of his own making.</p><p>He was surprised to be seized by the chin, a chapped thumb grazing his bottom lip as golden hues pierced him with a sense of possessiveness.</p><p><br/>"I am not <em>him</em>,’’ asserted Geralt, voice blissfully sincere, "Two different worlds, two different experiences, two different people. If I were on that mountain, beaten and broken, and took a look around to see you were still there, I would make of cherishing <em>you</em> my life’s only purpose.’’</p><p><br/>Then he paused, lowered his gaze to his lips and added, "Guess it's never too late.’’</p><p><br/>Jaskier’s expression must have softened, but Geralt had not lingered enough to see it. He was eager to gather the man in his arms and kiss him breathless. </p><p><br/>It was uncalled for, mostly because it wasn’t supposed to go down like this. Geralt had planned to wallow in the moment, to bathe Jaskier, dry him, pick him up to bed and lay him in its comfort before he could begin his body’s worship. But now, after hearing his story, all sense of respite was gone.</p><p><br/>He was seized with anger towards the White Wolf, powerful, blazing anger that pierced his chest with a sense of responsibility. <em>How could he treat him that way? How could anyone?</em> Loyalty, friendship, care, the bard offered everything a man could ask for. A witcher deserved none of it, to say the least.</p><p> <br/>Then Geralt’s anger translated into passion in the wake of Jaskier’s lust-filled response. He had run a hand behind, clutching at Geralt’s hair and pressing into the kiss. Geralt parted his lips and dived deeper into the exchange. Their tongues melted to the reunion and the spark of lust inside him went ablaze.</p><p><br/>They kissed until their lips turned red and Jaskier was first to pull back out of shortness of breath. Geralt took a second to appreciate the expression he made him wear. Parted lips coated with a hint of saliva, flushed crimson cheeks, and starry eyes that looked at him as if he were the only thing that mattered. And Geralt wanted that, wanted to be the only thing that mattered to Jaskier.</p><p><br/>"My sincere apologies to our neighbours,’’ dallied Jaskier in a breathless chuckle. He shifted in his seat to wrap his arms around Geralt’s neck. "They will have to suffer a sleepless night. Bards can get <em>quite</em> loud in bed.’’</p><p><br/>Geralt made a pleasant grunt. "I’ll make sure <em>you</em> do.’’</p><p><br/>Jaskier emitted a wanton sound that drowned in Geralt’s mouth once again locking against his. Geralt relished in their closeness, in the desperate heat of their bodies, and the rolling of hips that sought friction. Jaskier’s stiffened cock came grinding against his thigh, and with one of Geralt’s hand fastened around the small of his back, the other went travelling south to grant him the release he craved. Fingers laced around his hardness, full fledged and throbbing, and a convulsing shudder was sent cascading down his body.</p><p><br/>"Gods, <em>yes</em>!’’ he moaned.</p><p><br/>Geralt left his addictive mouth to trail warm kisses from the side of his jaw down to the sensitive skin of his neck. Jaskier tilted his head to the side invitingly, let his fingers slide into Geralt’s hair and then <em>pulled</em> – and it did something phenomenal to Geralt because he was not aware he groaned until it was echoing in the open.</p><p><br/>"Oh, you like that?’’ purred Jaskier, "Great, good. Give me <em>more</em> to work with.’’</p><p><br/>"Jaskier,’’ came his throaty grunt, but Jaskier wasn’t listening.</p><p><br/>He was pressing his mouth to his, his hips rocking to the rhythm of his strokes, and he soon dipped a hand under to return the favor when Geralt stopped him, gathered him by the hips and rose up to exit the tub.</p><p><br/>"Time for bed,’’ he purred against his mouth.</p><p> <br/>"Not for the purpose of sleeping I hope,’’ grinned Jaskier.</p><p><br/>"You'd be lucky to get any sleep tonight.’’</p><p><br/>Jaskier yelped but Geralt wasn’t letting him mouth his excitement. He stole his breath while he staggered out of the bathing room, knocking his own shoulder against the door and his calf against the bedside before he could finally have him where he wanted. Sprayed onto the bedsheets, stark naked, and looking completely and utterly disheveled. </p><p><br/>"<em>Fuck</em>,’’ he sighed, voice filled with fervor.</p><p>Jaskier's eyes flared under the dim lighting of the bedside candles, and his hands came tugging at Geralt’s hips with vehement urgency.</p><p><br/>"Oh, <em>yes</em>,’’ he cooed, mouth wide open. "Fuck <em>me</em>.’’</p><p><br/>"You and your filthy mouth,’’ scoffed Geralt, pressing his weight down onto him, "Keep talking.’’</p><p><br/>"And say what exactly, <em>hm</em>? That I wanted you the moment I saw you?’’ His teeth came tugging at Geralt’s bottom lip and he lured him into a mouthful kiss. </p><p><br/>He nudged him afterwards and shoved him down playfully so as to straddle his lap, rising on top. His eyes glinted at the sight of Geralt’s erect cock flush against his own.</p><p><br/>"And that I want <em>this</em> inside my mouth?’’ he grinned smugly, then pressed a finger to Geralt’s lips, shushing him, "I wasn’t asking.’’</p><p><br/>And the part where he was supposed to be worshipping Jaskier’s body? It was reversed. Jaskier was the one laying open-mouthed kisses on the back of his ear, nibbling at the side of his jaw, sucking at his collarbone, travelling lower and lower and making occasional stops to appreciate the scars and running his sweet tongue over their outline. He hummed in between, soft tunes he was unaware of making. The tenderness of it all sparked in Geralt a new notion of love-making he might have neither considered nor experienced before.</p><p><br/>Jaskier took him in like one would a meal after being driven to starvation. He started by licking around the tip, trailing his tongue playfully around the slit, then as his mouth took in the shape of the head, he ducked his head almost immediately, filling the hollowness with as much of it as he could fit in.</p><p><br/>Geralt would be lying to himself if he didn’t admit to this being the best blowjob he had ever gotten. Brothels and paid whores aside, there was something about the sight of Jaskier's flushed lips working his cock, his tongue trailing the pulsing veins, and his muffled moans sending waves of vibrations which left him dazed with satisfaction.</p><p><br/>He pushed himself up in a sitting position, gathered those brown curls into a fist and pulled – giving him a taste of his own medicine – and Jaskier drew back, eyes half-lidded and elated, his mouth hanging open and a lusty moan erupting in the open.</p><p><br/>"Yes, <em>darling</em>?’’ he purred, his voice sultry and fucked-out. That was when Geralt knew he was done for.</p><p><br/>He pulled him fervently by the hips, tasted himself in his mouth, then pushed him down onto the bed and spread him open. </p><p><br/>"Oh, <em>oh</em>!’’ Jaskier mouthed, the realization hitting him when Geralt reached for one of the oil flasks he had deliberately left nearby. "Melitele's tits, yes! <em>Finally</em>!’’</p><p><br/>A drowsy chuckle left Geralt while he smeared the oil over his fingers. "Left you wanting too long?’’</p><p><br/>"Since you’ve flashed that stunning smile at me three days ago, <em>yes</em>,’’ reciprocated Jaskier giddily, "Couldn't quit thinking about it that night. Had to touch myself else I wouldn’t have gotten any sl – <em>Oh</em>!’’</p><p><br/>"Go on,’’ urged Geralt, the tip of his slick finger circling the rim, "Tell me what you were thinking.’’</p><p><br/>"Oh ho ho, are you sure you want to play that dangerous ga – <em>Ah, I'll tell, I'll tell!’’</em></p><p><br/>Jaskier took a moment, sharp breath seeping past his clenched teeth, his eyes dazed as he bucked his hips down into Geralt’s finger now diving inside him, and up into the hand that came clasping his cock. </p><p><br/>"You inviting yourself inside my tent,’’ he gasped, fists tugging onto the bedsheets. "Tearing my clothes apart without speaking a word and, <em>ah</em>, fucking me breathless into the ground – <em>Fuck</em>, <em>Geralt</em>, <em>please</em>!’’</p><p><br/>Geralt had stretched him wide enough for another finger to fit in, maintaining a steady rhythm of his strokes as he watched his back beautifully arch off the mattress. That one little curve, that one subtle brush, that one erogenous spot, and he was sent moaning out curses Geralt had never heard before in his life.</p><p><br/>"Please <em>what</em>?’’ he mused, his digits sinking as deep as they could go, and each time they did, Jaskier was left whimpering in torturous pleasure. "Tell me, Jaskier. What are you begging for?’’</p><p><br/>There were tears gathering in the corner of his eyes and Geralt wondered if he had gone too far, but then Jaskier was reaching out to tug at his hair. For someone so desperate, he still managed to look pridefully smug.</p><p><br/>"If you don’t fuck my sanity away <em>right. this. second, </em>I swear to the gods, Geralt, I will push you down and do it myself!"</p><p><br/>That was about enough for Geralt to get into action. His fingers slipped out of him leaving Jaskier protesting in a groan, he then poured some of the flask's content and smeared the oil over his cock – now painfully aching. Under him, Jaskier was burning hot with wanton, openly expecting and at his mercy. There was a need, deep and dire, something beyond physical, that struck him like lightning. The need to leave a bruise or two, to mark him, to make him stand out for the rest – for the White Wolf – to recognize him as being <em>his</em>. </p><p><br/><em>His</em> bard.</p><p><br/>The sparks of what came after left him with a hazed memory. He remembered bits and pieces. The divine warmth of Jaskier’s pulsating insides, his pleasure-dripping tears, his whitening knuckles as he dug his nails into his back – and the burning ache of the bruises he left behind – his name being religiously chanted, his heaving chest, his sweat-slick neck, his rocking hips, and his curling toes at the dawning of his first orgasm. </p><p><br/>And it did not stop there. Not when Jaskier begged for a second serve and Geralt delivered to the best of his ability.</p><p> <br/>"<em>Yes</em>, <em>yes</em>, <em>fuck yes!"</em> He panted, avidly riding him, their positions switched, now Geralt lying on his back, Jaskier on top of him. "Gods, where have you been my entire li – <em>Ah, fuck!’’</em></p><p><br/>Geralt had gripped him by the hips to keep him steady, grinding in a rhythm that matched his rise and fall. Jaskier threw his head back, begging his numerous gods for mercy. If the entire village haven’t heard his cries by now, Geralt would be surprised. </p><p><br/>"Please, gods, <em>please</em>,’’ he whined, palms pressing onto Geralt’s chest to keep himself from falling, "Fuck me like this every night for the rest of our lives and I’ll die the happiest of men!’’</p><p><br/>That confession brought an amused smile to Geralt, who teasingly slipped out of him just to thrust back inside with twice as much ferocity. Jaskier's voice went mute for a brief second.</p><p><br/>"That I can do,’’ he breathed out, voice raspy, "If you’ll have <em>me</em>.’’</p><p><br/>"Are you kidding me?’’ he panted, eyelashes fluttering as he neared the edge of ecstatic blast, "Who out of their right mind would, <em>ah</em>, not choose to be sent to heaven and back? I don’t even think I can, <em>fuck</em>, manage to think of anything else come tomorrow – <em>Oh gods</em>, sweet baby hog on a pipe, <em>faster, Geralt!</em>’’ </p><p><br/>And he did as told and picked up the pace, watching as the intensity of the orgasm washed over him like a rainstorm on a dry summer day. He dug his nails onto Geralt’s skin, his body violently convulsing, and he lost his balance and collapsed on top of him.</p><p>Even then, Geralt didn’t stop.</p><p><br/>He fucked him through his frenzied spasms until Jaskier was crying hoarsely and spilling all over them. The contraction of his inner walls made Geralt reach his own solace, and with a deep throated grunt, he released inside him.</p><p><br/>They laid on the bed, chest to chest, hot and sweaty and drained and limp, gathering their breaths for minutes to come. Jaskier was first to raise his head, his drowsy eyes peering behind drooping eyelashes. In them, Geralt caught a glint of something that reflected a state of outright satisfaction. <em>He</em> made him wear that look. <em>He</em> made him satisfied.</p><p><br/>"Did you offer yourself to me or have I dreamed that part?’’ spoke Jaskier in a breathy voice, low and wasted. </p><p><br/>Geralt wore a tired, content smile, and leaned to press a peck to his temple.</p><p><br/>"Could do it all over again,’’ He whispered, "Make sure it’s drilled into your head.’’</p><p><br/>Jaskier wore a drunken smile, his fingers playfully trailing across Geralt's chest hair.</p><p><br/>"I'm quite aware witchers can go at it for hours – Wait, how long have <em>we</em> been at it?’’</p><p><br/>Geralt turned his gaze to the window. Outside, the light of dawn had coloured the sky a lighter shade of blue, welcoming the morning. </p><p><br/>"Hours,’’ he said.</p><p><br/>Jaskier gasped.</p><p><br/>"Dandelion will <em>slaughter</em> me later. First, sleeping with <em>his</em> witcher, <em>then</em> granting him a sleepless night? I’m surprised he didn’t barge into the room already, barking at us to shut it.’’</p><p><br/>Geralt made a tired hum, sleep beginning to lull him. He used his last ounce of energy to press his lips to Jaskier’s and whisper,</p><p><br/>"<em>Your</em> witcher.’’</p><p><br/>Then he faded into a blissful rest. </p><p> </p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Behave</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>I rewrote this chapter at least three times before getting a decent one out. Phew.</p><p>Also I was supposed to post it yesterday but something study-related came up. Anyway, I will do my best trying to update every couple of days (twice a week or so).</p><p>PS: Your comments never fail to make me smile &lt;3</p><p>PPS: A bit of angst ahead</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was an early summer morning. The sun warmed the horizon with its blazing heat, the birds twittered in the shade of the trees, and the horses neighed in hunger inside the humid stable. The White Wolf shifted to his side, body sore from a night spent on a thin layer of hay. He opened his eyes to Roach’s muzzle nudging his cheek for a meal.</p><p><br/>
“I know, Roach,” he mumbled tiredly, slowly raising a hand to brush her pelt.</p><p><br/>
He pushed himself upwards and, untangling strands of hay intermingled in his hair, turned to fetch an apple from the saddlebag. Dandelion was lying on the pile of hay next to his, sleeping soundly and snoring at will – the loudness of which, the White Wolf learned, was not an exaggeration.</p><p><br/>
A few hours ago, the riled man was eager to tear down the door across from theirs and give their counterparts a piece of his mind. If it weren’t for the White Wolf’s unwillingness to thread on Jaskier’s fickle moments of happiness after having treated him poorly for years – an argument he worked out on a whim and which had a brilliant effect on Dandelion – they wouldn't have left that inn in peace.</p><p><br/>
Though perhaps that string of thought did not erupt from nothingness. The lecturing he had received from Dandelion served him as a lesson to reflect on his behaviour, past and present. He would have taken it with a grain of salt were he to receive it from any other commoner, but it was Dandelion, and no matter their differences, at their core, he and Jaskier were one and the same. </p><p><br/>
After they successfully talked – Dandelion mostly – the stable owner into allowing them a night among the horses, the bard fell instantly asleep. The White Wolf twisted and turned, remaining unrested until the break of dawn, and when he finally managed to fade into a brief slumber, the scene that took place on the mountain came to haunt his dreams, rousing him with sweat and guilt.</p><p><br/>
He was being punished. No. <em>He</em> was punishing himself. The impulsiveness of his act, the selfishness of his outburst, those were not bestowed upon him. He was the one that sought them. He chose to let his years of bottled up pain and anger and scorn come flooding out on the one person who partook in none of it. He chose to overlook the importance of an apology and manipulated him into returning to his side. He was a monster. An evil, wicked monster. Undeserving of kindness, undeserving of friendship, undeserving of love. </p><p><br/>
And perhaps this turn of events was bound to happen. Destiny's scornful way to teach him a lesson. The witch, the portal, the other <em>him. </em>Perhaps they were all meant to put into action what he failed to rightfully achieve: to treat Jaskier the way he truly deserved. As a friend, not a burden. </p><p> </p><p>“Funny. She thinks you’re Geralt,” announced a tired voice in the back.</p><p><br/>
He turned his head to find Dandelion stretching awake, legs splayed on his pile of hay. There was something about his posture, his ruffled brown curls covering his face, the way he yawned and clumsily rubbed his tired eyes which reminded the White Wolf of Jaskier. He realised the two shared more in common than they were willing to admit. </p><p><br/>
“I <em>am</em> Geralt,” he stressed as a matter-of-fact, palm gently patting Roach’s neck as she devoured the apple off his hand.</p><p> </p><p>"Yes, yes, whatever you say, <em>Little</em> <em>Wolf</em>,” he hummed, then stood to his feet to gather his hat off the ground, “I hope you had a good night's rest, my friend, because <em>now</em> is the time for the <em>real</em> show to start. I have prepared about fifty-something pages worth of rant ready for discharge. And if we don't hurry up, I might start forgetting the flavorful parts - mainly the name-calling. Picked my brain all night for those.”</p><p><br/>
“You’re not making a scene,” reminded the White Wolf, “We talked about this.”</p><p><br/>
“Honest to the gods, I do not understand for the life of me why you are so suddenly keen to root for those bastards,” retorted the minstrel, arms flailing in protest, “The wheezing, White Wolf, shall I remind you? The <em>Faster, Geralt </em>and <em>Harder, Geralt </em>and <em>I am terrible in bed but don't tell anyone, Geralt, </em>oh, and let's not forget the fake orgasming because seriously, no human alive moans like that unless they are losing a limb or two."</p><p><br/>
“They’re enjoying themselves,” he shrugged, tired amber hues falling on Roach’s large chocolate pupils as she cooed happily to the attention she was given. “Let them have it.”</p><p><br/>
And Dandelion’s eyebrows rose high in his forehead at the answer. </p><p><br/>
“Since when do you give a horse’s arse – <em>my apologies, Roach</em> – about anyone’s happiness?” he spat, his hat’s feather dangling down to poke at his eye and he blew it off his face with practiced irritability, “Are you sure you didn't hit your head while sleeping? What happened to the <em>cold-hearted-and-treating-my-bard-like-a-pest</em> White Wolf I loved and adored?”</p><p><br/>
The witcher sneered. “I thought you were lecturing me for two hours on how to, and I quote, <em>grow a fucking pair and be a decent person for once.</em>”</p><p><br/>
“Oh dear, no,” sighed Dandelion dramatically, “This was <em>my</em> doing, wasn’t it? I lectured you too intensely you turned <em>soft</em>.”</p><p><br/>
“Hm, I'd blame you, too,” he responded, unable to conceal a one-sided smirk. “If you're done, we should go. And remember, <em>b</em><em>ehave</em>.”</p><p><br/>
“Might as well spank my arse and call me your <em>bitch </em>while at it,” he scoffed, arms crossing and chin rising up with pride. “Let’s make things clear, sweetheart. You might have been used to ordering buttercup around in the past but you will show <em>me </em>some respect. <em>You</em> are not making the rules anymore. <em>I</em> am. And when I say we shall go, then we shall go. <em>Now move</em>.”</p><p><br/>
Dandelion furiously turned to fetch his lute, and after patting Roach goodbye, he nudged at the White Wolf to walk ahead until the two reached the inn’s tavern. There, Geralt and Jaskier were nowhere in sight. Instead, they were welcomed by a series of glares from every guest who sat at the breakfast table, all of which were mostly travellers who were staying at the same inn. The barkeeper shook his head in utter disbelief and refused to take Dandelion's meal order.</p><p><br/>
“Can’t you lot be decently quiet like the rest of us?” he said, “Wife and I couldn’t sleep a wink and we’ve both got a day of work ahead of us. Shame on you.”</p><p><br/>
“Gods descend to this earth and smite me out of existence right this second,” muttered the bard next to his ear as they trotted away from the counter. “<em>They think it was us.</em>”</p><p><br/>
They crossed the tavern to reach the furthest table available – experiencing a very much undeserved walk of shame – and the second they sat down, Dandelion turned to him with a decisive finger.</p><p><br/>
“The rant shall be delivered and there is no stopping it,” he spoke, resolute, “How could I not, when it is <em>their</em> fault that I am for the first time in my entire life being disgracefully undignified like some noble's daughter caught in her servant's chamber? I cannot bear the shame, nor will I sit by watching my thoroughly-earned reputation become tainted by rumours so <em>foul</em>. Me? Bedding a <em>witcher</em>? I might as well hump a tree. No offence, but if you folk can hardly blush, I don't even want to begin to visualize the tragic situation <em>down there</em>."</p><p> </p><p>The White Wolf rolled his eyes dismissively, his headache worsening at the endless rave. He had never been so thankful as to see a tankard of ale magically place itself under his nose. He raised his head to the barkeeper’s wife approaching them with a generous offer.</p><p><br/>
“I apologize for my husband’s behaviour,” she said with a tender smile, “We… Haven’t been so active recently and the energy the two of you showed last night made us both face each other and talk about the situation. Please, accept this meal as a thank you. And know that you are welcome to stay for as long as you wish.”</p><p><br/>
With cheeks combusting with embarrassment, the short woman nodded humbly and dashed back to where she came from.</p><p><br/>
“Well, forget everything I said,” mused Dandelion, delighted at the sight of bread, grapes, and cheese sitting on his plate, “If fucking a witcher gets a man a free meal, then perhaps it is time I reconsidered my career choice."</p><p><br/>
“Don’t flatter yourself,” sneered the other, “No witcher alive would want <em>you</em>.”</p><p><br/>
“Oh dear <em>living-manifestation-of-low-self-esteem</em>, you <em>wish</em> you could have <em>me</em>,” he sighed apathetically, “As I am gentle of nature, I would even be willing to offer you a night of dreams were you not so far up your own arse <em>pining </em>over some common sideroad <em>weed</em>.”</p><p><br/>
“I’m not <em>pining</em>.” </p><p><br/>
“Say that louder and perhaps you would start believing it.”</p><p><br/>
The White Wolf pressed his lips into a thin line, then clenched a fist around the tankard and hauled it up for a sharp swig. </p><p><br/>
“Although, if you think about it, your relationship would make for a successful tragic ballad,” added Dandelion while popping a grape into his mouth, “The sorrowed tale of a witcher who realizes his undying love for his bard after losing him to none other than <em>himself</em>. Ironically heart wrenching!”</p><p><br/>
“<em>Fuck</em> <em>off</em>.”</p><p><br/>
"Which leaves me thinking," he continued, biting on a slice of cheese, "Why were you so keen to push him away in the first place? Could it be the Big Soft Wolf was too overwhelmed by his human feelings he did not know how to express himself –”</p><p><br/>
“Won’t you <em>shut</em> <em>up</em>?” came the sudden shout, followed by a fist slamming onto the table, sending the entire tavern into a state of utter stillness.</p><p><br/>
The White Wolf could not bring himself to conceal the effect Dandelion’s words had on him. They were too sharp, too vivid, too real. They dug at his chest with appalling consciousness, made him aware of a part of himself he had long denied. And even then, Dandelion, being his incorrigibly nosy self, did not take a hint, and adding oil to the fire,  loudly gasped for the entire village to hear,</p><p><br/>
“Melitele’s tits, you <em>are</em> pining!”</p><p><br/>
Right about then, a merry chuckle broke out from upstairs. The White Wolf flung his eyes towards the staircase and caught sight of Jaskier walking down with staggering steps, lips stretched from one corner of his mouth to the other, his hair a bird’s nest, his chest curls indecently poking out from under a black shirt that was twice his size.</p><p> </p><p>“That cursed <em>pimp</em>. That bloody <em>skunk</em>. I will wipe that smug grin off his face,” muttered Dandelion behind clenched teeth, “It wouldn’t be considered murder if it is delivered by the back of a lute, now would it?”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Dandelion</em>,” hissed the White Wolf in a warning. </p><p> </p><p>Geralt made his appearance right after. Loose silver strands, uncombed beard, half-lidded eyes and an astounding afterglow. His palm was fastened around Jaskier’s waist, either keeping him from stumbling in his clumsy footsteps or silently announcing his claim. </p><p><br/>
“Good morning to you, dear wonderful <em>me</em> from this universe,” announced Jaskier in high spirit, “And good morning to you, dear White Wolf. I see that you two are up early. Had an equally marvelous night, I suppose?"</p><p> </p><p>“Marvelous indeed,” scoffed Dandelion sourly, “Even the pigs stopped grunting in mourning of their dying comrade." </p><p> </p><p>Jaskier laughed with all his being, his chest rising and sinking in pure comfort, his voice echoing in the air. He let himself fall a little onto his witcher’s chest, a hint of tears swarming his eyes. </p><p><br/>
“That’s a good one, dear Dandelion. Oh, a <em>very</em> good one, indeed. I am <em>in tears</em>.”</p><p><br/>
His overdramatized reaction, combined with a lack of a snarky comeback, left Dandelion utterly speechless. He reached a hand to clutch his lute’s handle when, under the table, the White Wolf knocked the tip of his foot against the front of his leg.</p><p> </p><p>“Bloody <em>fuck</em>!” he hurled, clasping the wounded area, “I did not deserve <em>that, </em>you savage!"</p><p> </p><p>“You two are getting along now?” wondered Geralt, fairly impressed. </p><p> </p><p>"We shared the same pile of hay for an entire night," said Dandelion, "Let's say we bonded over the smell of horse shit. Right, Little Wolf?"</p><p> </p><p>"Call me that again and I will impale you."</p><p> </p><p>"See?" he nodded at Geralt with a proud grin, "Bonded."</p><p> </p><p>Geralt shook his head in amusement, then sat himself down on the only other available chair at the table. He casually held Jaskier by the hips and guided him to the comfort of his lap. Smitten by the intimate gesture, the chirpy bard threw his arms around his lover's neck and claimed his lips for a passionate exchange. </p><p> </p><p>“Not in front of my <em>cheese</em>!” growled Dandelion, wearing an expression of pure disgust as he covered his plate with his arms. "Do something, White Wolf!”</p><p> </p><p>Dandelion’s words faded in the background along with the rest of the sounds. The White Wolf heard no further than the echo of his own outrageous heartbeats ringing inside his ears. His eyes were captured by the sight, entrapped, unflinching. The passion of the shared contact, the tenderness of the embrace, the caress of lips curling into breathless smiles. Suddenly he could not move, not breathe, not look away.</p><p> </p><p>“Geralt?” called Jaskier with a hint of worry. His lips flushed red, kissed by someone that was <em>not</em> him.</p><p> </p><p>Geralt<em>, </em>he had called him. Not White Wolf, <em>Geralt</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Except that was no longer his name.</p><p> </p><p>Dragging his weight up right then and there, the White Wolf slammed his tankard on the table, gathered his scabbards, and trudged out of the door.</p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Rapture and Rupture</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Since apparently I can't keep up with fast updates, here is what I can promise: If I pull off one chapter a week, be proud of me.</p><p>Thank you for the continuous support/kudos/comments both on here and on tumblr. I love and read and keep in mind each and every one of your words all while deciding how the story continues (Obviously I have a set of ideas planned out but knowing what my readers would like to actually read is very inspiring)</p><p>Also, a bit more angst ahead (again!) but don't worry because Chapter 6 (as I revealed to some of you) will be a fun treat.</p>
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    <p>No further sounds were registered beyond the flow of a smooth river stream, the shuffling of breeze-swayed leaves, the clicking hooves of a deer prancing down the hill in the open, and the rattling of a rabbit gnawing at a twig in the bushes, unafraid.</p><p> </p><p>Nature was in repose that evening, and for once its silence was not a sign of impending danger. </p><p> </p><p>Geralt stood amidst this absolute tranquility, head raised towards a red-tinted sky stretching beyond his vision, its lazy shine bidding the day farewell. He breathed in the fresh summer air and tasted the river salt at the tip of his tongue, a reminder of a luxury he had long forgotten.</p><p> </p><p>He had the White Wolf to thank for this. Three days since he had left ahead of them, leaving a trail of blood, death, and gore. Geralt learned that once a witcher had gone by, his path bloomed back to life in the same manner a forest would after surviving a storm. He gratefully welcomed the placid aftermath and allowed his senses to grow lazy, now solely accustomed to the singing, the laughing - the occasional moaning. There was no fear, no anger, no violence. Just life and its abundance of pleasures.</p><p> </p><p>Dandelion had mocked his sloth, said Jaskier had gotten him too sentimental too fast. Perhaps he has, or perhaps his sentimentality was merely the result of the years he spent repressing himself with self-fueled lies amongst the lines of <em>Witchers feel nothing</em> and <em>Mutations turned us numb. </em>Lies that had been exposed for what they were after one bard had opened his eyes to the flow of life that existed within him. A sea of emotions he never knew he withheld. </p><p> </p><p>In the face of Geralt's history of disengaged lovers and their clashing of passion that was self-destructive and short-lived, what he and Jaskier had bore more meaning to him than he was willing to admit. It wasn’t violent, concrete, or unbreakable. It was torrid with tenderness, sustained with the power of commitment, and sweetly and poignantly fragile in its essence. It was born of their own choice, their own will, free from any supernatural power - free from Destiny. What they had was something sacred. Something that nourished Geralt as much as it frightened him. The awareness that he was falling with each fleeting moment, with each subtle whisper, with each flutter of an eyelid - and the choice that he was <em>letting</em> himself fall. It was a once in a lifetime occurrence, and to finally hold it in his grasp, this unique thing that united him with Jaskier, he refused to let it go.</p><p> </p><p>Except that choice was not his alone to make.</p><p> </p><p>Geralt lowered his gaze to the fishing net he had thrown into the lake moments ago, the tugging of the fabric had revealed to be the effort of a salmon twitching in an attempt to break free. He pulled on the thread to gather the fish out of the water and bent down to put it along with the other four in the bucket. Pleased with the day's effort, he lifted himself off the ground and started heading back to camp. </p><p> </p><p>He expanded the horizon of his walk this time, clearing all neighboring grounds from any potential fiends all while seeking the White Wolf's trails were there to be any. For although the stillness of the forest has been a blessing to his tired soul, anything that lasted for longer than its time rose a wild suspicion in his mind. And Geralt was correct in his assumption, for as soon as he climbed the hill behind the lake, the whimpering of a solitary wolf came disrupting the forest's quiet. He left the bucket of fish by a tree and set out following the trail of the blood stench that infested the area.</p><p> </p><p>What he unraveled was not a sight so uncanny. Ten skinned, gutted, and blood-drenched wolves were scattered all across the floor surrounding the cave at the top of the hill, signs of ruthless carnage that even the most violent of monsters did not deserve. Somewhere far inside the cave a whimpering resounded in the open, and Geralt caught sight of a cub weeping at the tragedy that befell its family. He was never one to mourn, but the ounce of pity he evoked towards the animal was unconcealable. </p><p> </p><p>He tore his eyes away with great difficulty, then strided further down the other side of the hill until he came across a deserted camp. The frail heat emanating from the glowing amber of smoke revealed a recent dwelling in the area. The half-eaten rabbit, empty vials, and a trail of hooves - Roach's - confirmed the dwelling to be none other than the White Wolf's. </p><p> </p><p>He had been waiting for them to catch up - for Geralt to view the massacre.</p><p> </p><p>For Geralt to feel the gravity of his <em>pain</em>.</p><p> </p><p>He dashed back down the hill, retrieved the fish bucket and returned straight to camp. He was welcomed by the refreshing sight of Jaskier, sun-kissed and heat-dampened, seated upon a tree stump around the campfire, his doublet missing, and his white chemise rolled up so as to uncover a trail of curly hairs dotting the surface of his skin down to the wrist. Nimble fingers worked the lute strings with utmost focus, the sound of which appeased Geralt's unsettled nerves. Upon approach he saw Dandelion on the other side of the campfire, lying on his bedroll, hat in hand, fanning himself while mumbling unintelligible curses at the striking humidity.</p><p> </p><p>"Can't we simply put out the fire?" he weariedly proposed, "I can feel the skin on my face start crawling from the heat."</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, don't you worry about it," reassured Jaskier with an uncaring smile, "That's just from old age. It goes away after you die. The sooner, the better. <em>Oh</em>, <em>there you are, my love</em>!"</p><p> </p><p>Geralt had dropped the weight of the fish bucket to receive a much affectionate embrace from his bard. Any hint of anger he bore before then had faded at the touch of his sweet lips, and by the time their exchange was resumed, he found himself once again at peace with the world.</p><p> </p><p>“You <em>stop that</em><em>,</em>” yelled Dandelion in the back, “I've had enough of you two feasting on each other's faces these past two days. If we're going to be sharing this camp, we shall start setting some <em>rules</em>. Rule number one. Keep it in your<em> fucking </em>pants.”</p><p> </p><p>“Very well, here's a rule for <em>you</em>,” sneered Jaskier, turning his head to him, his arms still fastened around his witcher, “Quit being so obviously <em>butthurt.</em> We all know the last time you've been in someone else's pants was when they lent you a pair after you've wet yours.”</p><p> </p><p>A loud gasp erupted out of Dandelion, and soon he was sitting up, arm stretched, finger pointed in accusation.</p><p> </p><p>“You listen here, you <em>wimp,</em>” he spat, lips pressing into a thin line, “You don't get to talk about <em>my</em> sex life and pretend you have had half as many encounters. We all know your history of flings involved your right hand and the occasional <em>pity</em>-<em>fuck</em>. So don't go wiggling your half-inch around thinking you could impress anyone when we both know men <em>and</em> women would choose me over you on a heartbeat."</p><p> </p><p>"After you've harassed them beyond compare, <em>surely</em>," scoffed Jaskier, rolling his eyes. "Moreover, bedding an army is nothing to take pride in. If anything, I'd show concern as to what that has to say about your sanity. I'll let you dwell in your trauma-repressive behavior while <em>I</em> maintain my <em>healthy</em> relationship over here."</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Oh</em>, you did <em>not</em> just start this war, buttercup," hissed Dandelion, enraged, "I'd tread very carefully if I were you. After all, there are but a few men alive who know of the tale of Julian Alfred Pankratz’s failure of a first time."</p><p> </p><p>At last, Jaskier entangled himself from Geralt and with a frown sinking deep in his forehead, stomped back towards the other with a threatening glare. </p><p> </p><p>"You wouldn't <em>dare, </em>you traitor! We both know <em>you</em> would be exposing yourself just as horrendously."</p><p> </p><p>“For all I care," cackled Dandelion wickedly, "Geralt is my best friend and I'd happily expose my arse for him to laugh at, whereas for <em>you</em> that would mean losing every bit of that self-image you've been preening since the beginning of the week. Now, sit yourself, Geralt. It’s time for a tale.”</p><p> </p><p>Geralt had joined the circle for the sake of bringing the fish to the fire and begin preparing it for frying, yet both bards mistook the movement as an invitation to hear further.</p><p> </p><p>“You speak one more word, Dandelion, and gods help me I will slit your throat in your sleep!"</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, how I am trembling with fear," teased the mischievous bard who turned his attention to their one-man audience, "What say you, dear friend?"</p><p> </p><p>“Would like to hear it,” nodded Geralt, eyes flickering towards Jaskier, “If you don’t mind."</p><p> </p><p>“No, Geralt, dear, you do <em>not</em>,” insisted the shameful bard. Though when Geralt’s lips softened into a smile, Jaskier was weak to it, and soon he was mumbling, <em>“Fine,”</em> in utter defeat while sitting himself back on his tree stump. </p><p> </p><p>"Very well," started Dandelion, straightening his back so as to project his voice in the art of storytelling, "Our tale begins in Oxenfurt, where marvelous me was walking to class -"</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Wrong</em>,” cut Jaskier shortly, raising a finger in protest, “I wasn't walking, I was <em>strolling</em>. And you forgot to mention <em>where</em> I was walking, <em>when</em> and <em>why</em>. What's the point of telling a story if you are not going to tickle the senses of the listener with built-up suspense? Sweet lord, don't tell me you are the kind to skip foreplay altogether? Dandelion, you are one tactless <em>brute</em>."</p><p> </p><p>Then with a sense of triumph, Jaskier turned to capture Geralt's gaze with a genuine smile.</p><p> </p><p>"Now, my love, let me tell <em>you</em> the <em>actual</em> story. The one that took place on a wondrous winter day, when the sky was pregnant with cumbersome anguish, unable to hold back its tears as it unleashed itself on the marvelous garden of Oxenfurt. That very morning, I have awakened to witness the birth of one peculiar flower in the soil under my classroom's window. It captured my senses as I strolled down the path I so often took to my history class. As you must know, I have taken my studies quite seriously and never once failed to attend, so on that one lonely day, as the breathtaking fragrance of that singular blossom caught my attention entire, I found myself bound to be drawn to the vividness of its shade, and delayed my attendance for the sake of its admiration. Then and there, and as I leaned into the caress of its sweet honeyed scent, I caught the eyes of a young fair-looking man lying on the -"</p><p> </p><p>“Wait, hold on, I'm sorry, <em>what</em>?" interrupted Dandelion, looking anything but apologetic, "I must have missed something since my brain naturally filters out the sound of your <em>bullshit</em>, but did you just describe Valdo <em>fucking</em> Marx as <em>fair</em>-<em>looking</em>? Of all the bloody adjectives available out there! <em>Fair-looking?!</em> The bastard's scrawny cheeks were so sucked in you could throw in some ducks and call it a pond. For fucks' sake, a goat would have made a maiden blush in comparison. Don't let me get started on the smell of his breath. The skunks in the area decided to call in early hibernation that year."</p><p> </p><p>Dandelion crossed his arms, and resolute to make the story one worthy of a listener, he picked up where the other left and turned to address Geralt himself.</p><p> </p><p>"Now, dear Geralt. I spot in the wrinkle of your left eyebrow the look of absolute revolt. And trust me, the feeling is mutual. But see, a man is allowed to sink terribly low at least once in his lifetime - Buttercup, I take it, several, considering the lack of selection his second-rate face had left him with - That aside, listen to me, as I shall reveal to you the true story of what took place that day. Firstly, we flunked far too many classes we barely passed that miserable year - our professors wanted us gone if it weren't for the songs of arse-kissing praise we wrote to their names - Secondly, the beautiful flower we stopped to admire was a weed the college gardener chased around like the pest. We were naive and - as much as I hate to say <em>we -</em> quite dim-witted, too. We were pissed drunk after a night of college partying - that would be every night, mind you - and so we stumbled nose first into said weed thinking it was the reincarnation of beauty itself and decided to name ourselves after it - and as you can see only one of us grew a brain ever since. All in all, we were young, foolish, and terribly terribly <em>horny</em>, and so whom did we choose but our nemesis-to-be, who just happened to be lying on the same ground, knocked to his wits and reeking of ale, to share a history of teeth-clashing, spit-sharing, and a handjob that was a job neither of our hands could manage. He sobered up the next day and wrote a song about it, <em>obviously</em>, and we hated him for it ever since. The end.”</p><p> </p><p>"That is a load of <em>bollocks</em>," scorned Jaskier, "As I recall, it wasn't <em>that</em> terrible."</p><p> </p><p>"You were so nervous you nearly crushed the bastard's <em>cock</em>," pointed out Dandelion, "<em>N</em><em>ot so terrible</em>, my arse. The poor thing limped his way back to the infirmary like a gravid toad. I'd write hate songs about me, too, if I were him. What do you say, Geralt?"</p><p> </p><p>“Hm,” purred the man in question, who amidst listening to the two-sided tale had managed gutting the fish and skewing it. He glanced up at Jaskier with enchanted eyes, grazed a swift tongue over his lips and said, "Crushing incidents? No. Limping? Maybe, but for the good reasons."</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Oh</em>, <em>darling,"</em> mused Jaskier, eyes dazed with the memory of the ardent nights they shared. He stretched a hand to caress Geralt's forearm, sending the hair on his skin standing. So natural it has become to have these moments of rapture, Geralt could not begin to imagine an alternative without his heart aching in discontent.</p><p> </p><p><em>“Moving on,"</em> sighed Dandelion, displeased to have all attention driven away from him, "Any news on the White Wolf?"</p><p> </p><p>“No," came Geralt's delayed response. He was unwilling to share the details of his findings for many a reason. "We keep heading south. We'll run into him eventually."</p><p> </p><p>"Hopefully soon,” sighed Jaskier, the grip of his hand tensing around Geralt's arm, “I still do not understand what went through that stubborn head of his. Suddenly leaving us like that."</p><p> </p><p>“Considering the night of nightmares I need years to heal from, It's self-explanatory <em>why</em> he left,” revealed Dandelion, "How far away is he, anyway?"</p><p> </p><p>“A day of walking, at best."</p><p> </p><p>“Half if we get a horse. Saw a wild herd on our way down here. I suggest we tame a few.”</p><p> </p><p>"Go on," urged Geralt, "Would like to see how many hooves to the face it takes for a man to recognise a terrible idea."</p><p> </p><p>Jaskier broke out laughing and leaned his entire weight on Geralt's shoulder, a physical nearness he welcomed willingly. Across from them, Dandelion's expression twisted into a villainous grin, and no longer bothered by the hot summer air, the minstrel leaned close enough to the campfire so as to dramatically enhance the shadow of his expression.</p><p> </p><p>"I was wondering, dear friend," he said, addressing the witcher, "Have I ever told you the story of my first <em>scandalous</em> performance?" </p><p> </p><p>And those words seemed to have been made of thorns, for as soon as they were spoken, Jaskier was launching himself at Dandelion with clenched fists.</p><p> </p><p>"I am going to <em>kill</em> you!" </p><p> </p><p>Dandelion hauled himself out of the way at once, and the two circled the campfire like hunter and prey.</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, you will <em>love</em> this one, Geralt, trust me. It involves a <em>lot</em> of eggs," sneered Dandelion. </p><p> </p><p>"Why don't you come over here and face me<em>, </em>you <em>coward</em>!" yelled Jaskier from across, having collected a long wooden stick and begun swinging in the air. </p><p> </p><p>This lasted for a good couple of minutes, until Geralt - who had grown used to their childish strifes by now - finished preparing dinner and announced its readiness to the sweat-drenched, loud-mouthed, starving pair. His assumption was correct, for the second the two had sat themselves down to dig into their hearty meal, no more barking, name-calling, or stick-beating incidents threatened to take place. </p><p> </p><p>It wasn't until much later, when Jaskier left to the bushes to relieve himself, that Dandelion approached Geralt with an unsettling matter.</p><p> </p><p>"I know you found something else out there," he said, scrutinizing him from up close, "You can lie to him, but I, dear friend, have known your for so long I could recite the tragedy of each scar figuring on your buttocks. Now, tell me, what is it you're hiding?"</p><p> </p><p>At first, Geralt thought the moment was uncalculated, a question asked on a whim by Dandelion, but when his friend's well-recited speech carried on regardless of him receiving an actual answer, that was when he knew he was being cornered. </p><p> </p><p>"You've heard of how the White Wolf treated him back in their world," he said in a nonchalant manner - which struck Geralt by surprise considering they have never spoken of this before, "You also know how he <em>feels</em> about him."</p><p> </p><p>A low, anger-filled grunt escaped his throat, and Geralt turned his head elsewhere. "So do you, <em>apparently</em>."</p><p> </p><p>“Tell me you’re not going to beat it out of him," sighed Dandelion, and he leaned close so as to catch Geralt's fleeing glance, "He is a fool, I agree, but he is still <em>you</em>. You were a fool once, too. Remember?"</p><p> </p><p>"I would never hurt <em>him</em> like that," he barked, his golden eyes flaring with an intense rage as they finally met his gaze. </p><p> </p><p>"No, you would not," agreed Dandelion, "But you <em>will</em> have to."</p><p> </p><p>And at that, Geralt's muscles tensed with antagonism. He wanted to prove him wrong, to speak against his selfish factless assumption, but he couldn't. Because that selfish factless assumption was in fact selfless and very much true.</p><p> </p><p>“You know it is not made to last,” he carried on, as if he hasn't done enough damage, as if his words has not incrusted themselves in Geralt's head and unleashed an acute headache, “Whatever the two of you have, no matter how great it is - and it pains me to say this when I've never seen you so enamoured before - has to <em>end</em>. Tell me at least the thought has crossed your mind.”</p><p> </p><p>The shuffling of the bushes alerted him, and Geralt raised his head to catch the figure of <em>his bard</em> marching back towards them with a relaxed posture and a comfortable smile. And when the thought crossed his mind that he could not have him - <em>his bard -</em> for the rest of his life, that eventually, sooner than later, he has to let go - and what a fool, what a <em>fucking</em> fool he was for wanting to believe otherwise - something deep in him ruptured. </p><p> </p><p>“Geralt, what I am saying -”</p><p> </p><p>“Fuck, Dandelion, I <em>know</em> what you're fucking saying.”</p><p> </p><p>And his shout broke out louder than he intended for it to be. Loud as to remind himself of the truth, an inevitability, of <em>his</em> peace, an illusion. Loud as to turn the comfort of Jaskier's cheerful expression into a grim, worry-filled one. </p><p> </p><p>Only then could Geralt feel the true gravity of the White Wolf's pain. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Salmon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>You've survived the angst, be prepared for some healing.</p><p>Ps: Due to the length of this chapter I had to split it into two (and add a little treat at the end) so chapter 7 is already roughly drafted, will need to get around finishing it up (hopefully) soon.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><br/>
In the morning of the next day, Jaskier arose to the irritating shriek of Dandelion calling their names at the top of his lungs. As thrilled as he was to hear of the end of him sooner than later, he put his natural-born bitterness for the bard aside and pretended to look vaguely panicked when Geralt shook him awake. Even then, nothing could stop him from taking a moment to appreciate his witcher’s heavenly-built torso, glazed with a layer of dampness from the heated night of glorious love-making they have shared - <em>and fuck Dandelion for ruining the morning-after he had so deliciously planned. </em></p><p><br/>
“Something’s up,” spoke Geralt in a gruff, sleep-strained tone – wildly awakening every bit of desire in him – then shuffled back in his breeches and reached to fetch his sword. “I’ll go take a look.”</p><p><br/>
<em>Curse you Dandelion, </em>blared the wild voice in Jaskier’s head<em>, can’t you fucking die quietly like every other?</em></p><p><br/>
Having put all hope for a morning-orgasm to rest, Jaskier slipped his pants back on, threw his sweat-stained chemise over his body – after giving it a regretful sniff and growing even more desperate for a bath – then stepped out of the tent with the pretence to care.</p><p> </p><p>To add to his disappointment, there was no sign of a perishing bard anywhere around camp. In fact, there was no sign of anything except the charcoal ashes of an extinguished campfire, the fishbone rests from the night before, and a solitary lute – obviously not his<em>, have you seen those loose strings?</em> – poking out of Dandelion’s empty tent. </p><p><br/>
Geralt turned to him with an eyebrow quirked in confusion, and the vaguest hope resurfaced in his mind with the thought that he could still call out Dandelion’s <em>obvious ploy</em> and drag his gorgeous witcher back into the tent for a quick ride – but even that fantasy was quickly crushed by one crude <em>bastard’s</em> resounding call.</p><p><br/>
“Over here!” came the unpleasant voice, and Jaskier and Geralt turned their attention towards the nearest tree, behind which Dandelion was crouched down, knees on the ground and one arm raised, signaling for them to approach. “You won’t believe this. Come look what I found!”</p><p><br/>
Jaskier heard Geralt seep in a desperate chunk of air, and he liked to think that he was just as worked out as him – <em>because gods forbid, Dandelion had to merely exist to ruin all of his life’s sweetest delicacies</em>. But not all hope was lost, because at least his witcher was walking around half-naked in his sun-glazed skin and scar-adorned chest and perfectly outlined muscles which had Jaskier inhale sharply in yearning. </p><p><br/>
And then quite suddenly his focus shifted – a strange thing to happen when Geralt’s upper body was exposed in all its sweet glory – and Jaskier’s eyes settled over Dandelion’s shoulder to catch a glimpse of what he was doing.</p><p><br/>
There, hidden behind a thick bush, a sheet of fur covered the surface of the spot towards which Dandelion was stretching a raw piece of salmon saved from yesterday’s dinner. Then the layer of fur moved –<em> it moved!</em> – and a pair of golden pearls glimmered open, a baby snout flared to sniff at the fish the mass of which was larger than its mouth, then a pair of baby canines came chomping on the hard tip, unable to cut through.</p><p><br/>
“By the gods!” cried Jaskier suddenly, voice high-pitched with adoration, “This– This is–"</p><p><br/>
“The cutest, most adorable thing you’ve ever witnessed since <em>me</em>?” finished Dandelion, throwing a grin over his shoulder, “For once, dear buttercup, I agree.”</p><p><br/>
Jaskier could care less about Dandelion’s desperate call for self-validation, for he was busy hardly containing the emotional outburst he was seized with at the sight of the little wolf that was the size of his handbag. </p><p><br/>
“Good lord, this is the epitome of my day and it has barely begun,” he moaned with heartfelt sensitivity, “Can I pet him? I need to pet him!”</p><p><br/>
“Her,” corrected Geralt softly beside him, arms rising to cross over his chest, “Be careful. She might have small canines but they are still dangerously sharp. She could hurt you.”</p><p><br/>
“A risk I'd be willing to take. I mean, have you seen those <em>eyes</em>?” he lamented, his hand already reaching out to ruffle the young cub’s pelt – so overwhelmingly soft it nearly brought him to tears, “Oh, you sweet little thing, where did you come from?”</p><p><br/>
And of course self-centered Dandelion had to assume the question was directed towards him.</p><p><br/>
“I caught sight of her by the side of the lake this morning when I went for a dip,” he said, “She was whimpering in the open, thought she was threatening me. So I dressed myself up and made back for camp before more of them could turn up. To my greatest surprise, she followed on her own, certainly heard my singing and took a liking to it. Now, what shall we do with her? We can’t just leave so small an animal out here.”</p><p><br/>
“Gods, no!” shouted Jaskier, glaring at the other as if he has just insulted him – although it didn’t take much of an effort to be upset at him, really, the man was a living headache. “Only the most wretched, most evil of humans would be willing to abandon so feeble a thing in the wilderness unattained. I say we take her around, see if her pack sniffs her out. If not, then we shall deem her as lonely as the rest of us, and we shall make her one of <em>ours</em>.”</p><p><br/>
“Buttercup, you bloody genius,” retaliated Dandelion in full agreement, “Now, if only she could eat something. Clearly she’s been moaning out of hunger.”</p><p><br/>
Geralt approached them with an extended hand. “Let me try.” </p><p><br/>
“I can do that!” bluntly spat the stubborn bard. </p><p><br/>
Quite at his wits’ end with such immature behavior, Jaskier tore the salmon off Dandelion’s hand himself and handed it over to Geralt, then turned to wipe his slime-smeared fingers off on the angry man’s shirt who immediately jumped away in repugnance. </p><p><br/>
“You disgusting <em>troll</em>!” yelped the other, standing two feet away with a clear vein of annoyance popping on his temple, “Do you have a single clue how much this doublet cost me? You could sell your soul and barely afford a button! I don’t expect a man with a rug for a shirt to understand!”</p><p><br/>
“The man with the rug for a shirt did not exactly pack for an interdimensional trip,” retorted Jaskier, “Plus, I would be concerned to spend even half a coin on a doublet like yours. It looks like something out of my grandmother’s wardrobe. <em>She was a good woman, but good lord did she have an odd thing for clowns</em>.”</p><p><br/>
Dandelion’s mouth gaped with distinct offense, and while he was working on a fierce comeback, Geralt had managed to shred the salmon meat into pieces and get the young wolf out of hiding to feed on it. Wide-eyed, the two bards lost track of their bickering to reunite around the adorable god-sent little thing.</p><p><br/>
“She needs a name,” announced Jaskier, “We shall call her…”</p><p><br/>
“Salmon,” said Geralt, which resulted in squinted pair of eyes fixating him. He then added, “She seems to like it.”</p><p><br/>
“Oh,” chuckled Dandelion, “For a second there, Geralt, I thought you wanted to name this beauty of a thing so horrendous a –"</p><p><br/>
“Salmon, it is,” nodded Jaskier with a proud grin, settling on the decision for the sake of irritating the other, “There is no changing it now.”</p><p><br/>
There was no changing it even after, because no matter how hard Dandelion had tried to come up with new fanciful names to call her, the young cub refused to answer to anything other than <em>Salmon</em>. It was clear among the three that she had a favorite, also – Geralt. While Dandelion was sickeningly bitter about it, Jaskier basked delightfully at the sight of his witcher showing so tender a side to a creature so small in size.</p><p><br/>
“I can agree, little one,” Jaskier casually addressed the cub later as they returned to the road, “He is so ridiculously charming, isn’t he? I, too, see myself following him to the edge of the world, blindfolded if I must.”</p><p><br/>
“Save your kinks for the bedroom, will you?” scoffed Dandelion back at him, “It’s almost as if I am bedding you both against my own will. Haven’t you heard of verbal abuse?”</p><p><br/>
“Unfortunately, yes,” responded Jaskier immediately, “In fact, I suffer under it each time you open your mouth.”</p><p><br/>
“Scorning my voice, how unoriginal. Have you run out of insults, already? Pity, I hoped for a sturdier opponent but I guess we all have to punch low once in a while.”</p><p><br/>
“Ah, I shall no longer take your words to heart, Dandelion,” hummed Jaskier with despicable nonchalance, “Since I know now it is merely your insecurity talking. I mean surely there is not only the fact that Geralt, your travel companion for the past decades, is now bewitched by yours truly, the White Wolf mysteriously disappearing one day after sharing a room with you, but also a pup <em>you</em> rescued seemingly cares less to whether or not you’re alive. I am beginning to see a pattern.”</p><p><br/>
“Insecure? <em>Me</em>?” laughed Dandelion, head tipped back. “How naive you must be to think you can replace a man of my stature. Geralt and mine’s friendship, mind you, is worth more than a meaningless fuck. And it cannot get any more obvious that the White Wolf scampered off twice because you’re such a <em>let-down.”</em></p><p><br/>
Jaskier gasped aloud. <em>This prick!</em></p><p><br/>
“How could you – wait, <em>twice</em>?” he froze mid-sentence to let a suspicious frown trace his forehead, “How do you know about <em>that</em>? I don’t remember telling <em>you</em> a thing!”</p><p><br/>
Dandelion’s gaze fled towards Geralt who had lingered in the back so as to avoid their confrontation. Jaskier noticed it and his worry boiled into sudden anger.</p><p><br/>
“You told him, Geralt?” shouted Jaskier in a tone of accusation, hands resting on his waist. His witcher went still, forming words he never managed to utter. </p><p><br/>
“He didn’t need to tell me because <em>I</em> beat it out of the White Wolf myself,” admitted Dandelion proudly, stopping to mirror his stance, “And quite honestly, I don’t regret putting him in his place as much as I do for standing up for you. You hardly deserve an act of kindness with so nasty an attitude.”</p><p><br/>
“Wait, <em>what</em>?” Jaskier shook his head dismissively, growing vaguely skeptical, “You’re saying he left because <em>you</em> played back-up without my consent? <em>No</em> <em>way</em>. That doesn’t sound like him. There is something else you’re not telling me. Spit it out, you liar, or gods help me I will–”</p><p><br/>
“You will <em>what</em>?” challenged Dandelion, arms crossed, chin up high, “There’s nothing you can threaten me with that I haven’t already laid out in the open.”</p><p><br/>
“I could stay here forever,” smiled Jaskier with a glint of excitement in his eyes, “Take over your title, your fame, your audience, your <em>lovers</em>.” </p><p><br/>
Dandelion cackled aloud.</p><p><br/>
“<em>Please</em>, just because you have a pair of dumb witchers pining over you doesn’t suddenly make your soggy arse irresistible.”</p><p><br/>
There was a short silence, followed by Jaskier gasping for air because one does not simply call his buttocks soggy and get away with –</p><p><br/>
“Pining?” he spouted as if struck by a delayed revelation, “Geralt isn’t <em>pining</em>.”</p><p><br/>
“<em>Yours</em> is.”</p><p><br/>
The answer was spoken by the man himself. Jaskier turned to catch in his eyes a hint of discontent he was striving to conceal. </p><p><br/>
“The White Wolf?” Jaskier breathed through his nose, faking a laugh, “No, he’s not. Wait, he <em>is</em>? Hold on – how come <em>you</em> know about this?”</p><p><br/>
Geralt’s gaze fled to the ground. At his foot, little Salmon gnawed at the fabric of his pants for attention.</p><p><br/>
“It takes one to know one,” sighed Dandelion, arms crossed, “Well, great. No more secrets safe in this god-forsaken world. And they say I am always running my mouth? <em>Please</em>.”</p><p><br/>
Dandelion’s rambling was left hanging in the air, unanswered. Jaskier was far too awe-stricken, confusion and worry dawning upon him as he made for his witcher. Bits and pieces of the past four days suddenly reunited in his head in full-blown realization. </p><p><br/>
“Is this what you were discussing in whispers last night? Why you were so distracted in bed? You’ve been worrying about <em>this</em>?” he spoke, voice gentle with concern. He stopped across from him to reach out and cup his face with both hands, “Geralt, look at me.”</p><p><br/>
There was not a single time in which Geralt had denied him a thing, and he was clearly unwilling to ever do so, because soon his head was rising up, and a pair of restless amber hues flickered towards him unsteadily, deliberately reverting an existing inner turmoil – <em>or was it jealousy? </em></p><p><br/>
“Geralt, love, you have nothing to worry about,” he assuaged, tracing a gentle finger over his cheek, “There is nothing in this world I could desire more than what I have now. With you.”</p><p><br/>
“<em>Now</em>,” stressed Geralt, voice gruff, jaw clenching.</p><p><br/>
“Yes, <em>now</em>,” insisted Jaskier while wearing a frown of complete certainty, “<em>Now</em>, Geralt, because we cannot afford to feel sad about <em>then</em>. I refuse to lament over an uncertain future when instead I could live these moments of heartfelt joy and true passion with you. I would rather feel the sweetness of your lips against mine, the strength of your arms around me every single day until the very last. Whether that day is tomorrow, next week, or years from now would hardly make a difference.”</p><p><br/>
And what Jaskier wished for at that moment – to express how profoundly and utterly grateful he was for all that he was given and for Geralt to truly comprehend the extent of his emotions – was successfully penetrating Geralt with blatant fluency, because the witcher’s entire existence might as well have trembled in his arms, his muscles tensed, and his breath hitched, and Jaskier suddenly wanted – No, needed to express himself <em>further</em>.</p><p><br/>
“I want you to remember,” he said, tracing the tip of his finger over Geralt's trembling bottom lip, “Whatever happens to us, wherever we go, nothing would change how I feel about you. Because you are the only man I have and will ever come to love so profoundly."</p><p><br/>
Only then did it occur to Jaskier that this was the first time he spoke of love – of mutual, lingering, <em>true</em> love – and meant it with every fiber of his being. </p><p><br/>
The shared silence that followed was blissful, the breathless stare devout, and the moment the trace of worry faded from Geralt’s golden hues, replaced by complete and utter fondness, Jaskier felt his body get swept off the ground. He was taken fully into Geralt’s arms, embraced with fierce strength, and kissed with a passion unlike any other he had ever been blessed with in his life. </p><p><br/>
Then their lips parted and their eyes met. Jaskier caught a glimpse of uncanny desire in his counterpart's, the kind that set his insides on fire. And perhaps he owed Dandelion an apology this <em>once</em> for selfishly breathing into Geralt’s lips the exact words the man was craving to hear.</p><p> </p><p>“Here, now," he purred, "<em>Take</em> <em>me</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>His demand awakened something unexpected in Geralt. One second he was seizing him by the arm, the next he was dragging him off the road, far behind the bushes where he shoved him against a sturdy tree and kissed him breathless. </p><p> </p><p>The echo of Dandelion's curses faded in the distance as Jaskier dug impatient nails into Geralt's back and lost himself in the moment. He rolled his hips almost instinctively, basking in the pleasant delight that was the hardness of the other. And he knew, <em>gods</em> he knew, in the morning when he first awoke, that he would remain unfulfilled and restless for the rest of the day unless he <em>had</em> <em>him</em>. He knew, because the recurrent burning knot in the pit of his stomach stirred with insatiable hunger, the kind that demanded to be satiated repeatedly, continuously, <em>urgently.</em></p><p> </p><p>It wasn't just desire, it wasn't just pleasure, it was more than that.</p><p> </p><p>In the heat of the moment, Jaskier slipped a flask of oil out of his pocket and pressed it to Geralt's chest. He watched his body tense up and his nostrils flare, and he could feel him ache with equal magnitude. The look in his eyes thrilled him, had his stomach flutter, his cock throb, and Geralt maintained its intensity while his sharp teeth tore the lid off the flask. Jaskier's breeches were dragged down to his knees and suddenly he was hauled up, pressed against the trunk's rugged bark and the coldness of the oil smeared around his rim. He begged somewhere in between, repeatedly, until Geralt had given up stretching him altogether and dived right in, the slight sweet pain resulting from the abrupt penetration had him nearly spill, and that's when Jaskier recognised how desperate he was to be <em>taken</em>.</p><p> </p><p><em>"</em><em>F</em><em>uck</em>," he gasped, the tip of his cock dribbling as Geralt began grinding against him with wild, uncontrollable thrusts. He felt his nails dig into his thighs, clawing at the skin with the promise of long-lasting bruises, and the mere thought of being marked as <em>his</em> made him rouse with excitement. He wanted it, the soreness, the roughness, the bruises. He wanted it <em>all</em>.</p><p> </p><p><em>"Oh yes, oh gods, oh fuck!" </em>he cried, his throat turning sore with all the high-pitched moaning. And in the middle of it, in the middle of that sweet roughness he was treated with he broke out into a breathy chuckle, and searched for the taste of Geralt's lips almost mechanically. </p><p> </p><p>"I know it's only been like a week since we've known each other and - <em>Ah</em><em>, </em>I beg of you please don't hate me for saying this, Geralt, but <em>fuck, </em><em>I love you</em>. I'm completely and madly in love with you and - <em>oh my fucking lord right there! YES!</em><em>"</em></p><p> </p><p>Something deep and carnal inside him broke out, and Jaskier found himself subconsciously pushing his weight down, receiving him deeper, arching his back off the tree to make for that soft bundle of nerves to get the most of it - the tip of Geralt's cock repeatedly hammering against it until his eyesight went blurred, until his body went limp, until he was completely and utterly <em>filled</em>. It didn't last long before he was losing himself to the heated ride, his head falling back, his senses dazed with the intensity of his ascending orgasm.</p><p> </p><p>He yelled a series of shameless demands to go<em> harder </em>and <em>faster,</em> expressing how he wanted to be <em>fucked into insanity.</em>The high he thought was unattainable was quickly breached. White strands came shooting all over his and Geralt's clothes, tainting the fabric and<em> that was going to be one hell of a mess to clean up</em> but all Jaskier could focus on was how Geralt's voice groaned his name against the skin of his bruised neck, how the grip of his hands tightened around his thighs until the skin turned red, and how his last thrusts sent his toes curling with something he could only described as a second, dry orgasm.</p><p> </p><p>They remained there for moments to come, Jaskier flush against the tree, Geralt's weight heavy on top of him as they gathered their breaths. He felt the softness of Geralt's lips against his, tasting of iron from where he had unintentionally bitten him, and soon he was addressed with words Jaskier could barely hear in his hazed state.</p><p> </p><p>"Don't go," he whispered, speech slightly slurred, "Not today, not tomorrow, not the next years. I want you to stay, Jaskier. I want you to stay with <em>me</em>."</p><p> </p><p>With half-lidded eyes, Jaskier managed to catch a glimpse of the look of pure determination in his eyes. Eyes that reflected a statement, a finalised truth. Geralt was not going to let him go, not now, not ever. His lips curled into a thin grin, a rush of happiness seized him, and a tired, heartfelt laughter escaped his throat.</p><p> </p><p>"My sweet darling," he purred, throwing his arms around his neck lovingly, "With your cock filling me like this, I don't think I'm going anywhere."</p><p> </p><p>"Hm," groaned Geralt, twitching inside him with interest, "I'd go for another round, but we can't keep Dandelion waiting."</p><p> </p><p>"You can't keep <em>me</em> waiting either," he teased, "And I have been for two <em>miserable</em> decades."</p><p> </p><p>That argument was enough to win Jaskier two extra rounds and a delicious soreness that led him to stagger for the rest of the road.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chance</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Apologies for the delayed chapter. As I've mentioned on tumblr, I'm going through an exam phase this month. Can't promise any fast upcoming updates.</p><p>For now, enjoy the read!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Heavy footsteps trudged past the old shop’s threshold. The bell hanging above the door rattled in alarm. Behind the counter, the shop owner, who had been busy neatly ordering his vials on the shelves, turned a merry head over his shoulder. His features grew instantly pale at the sight of his customer. </p><p> </p><p>A shadow loomed over the surface of the counter and a threateningly broad hand dipped under a cloak to withdraw – to the shop owner’s relief – a harmless pouch. He proceeded to unlace it and spill its content onto the counter. The shop owner’s back fell flat against the rack of shelves he spent the past hours putting into order, now half of its content spilled. He brought a hand to cover his nose at the foul smell that unleashed, a sign of utter disgust painting his expression as he caught sight of the rotten blood-smeared fangs and canines rolling on the surface.</p><p> </p><p>“Three towns. Three roads,” announced the gruff voice of the cloaked figure. “All travelers should be on the clear for now.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re –" the shop owner breathed through his mouth. The setting confused him, if anything, but the sight of the rests spilled onto his counter – as repulsive as they were– were good news considering how big of a threat the beasts they belonged to had been to the neighboring towns. “Who hired you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Your brother.” His head suddenly rose, golden hues shining in the dim light, threateningly cold. “<em>Payment</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“O-Of course,” stuttered the man. He reached to empty his drawer from all coins he had earned throughout the day – unfortunately not much – then reluctantly placed the lonely pieces under the other’s judgmental stare.</p><p> </p><p>A rough-skinned palm came slamming the surface of the counter, sending a few bloody teeth flying to the ground.</p><p> </p><p>“Six slaughtered packs, each a dozen. And you’re giving me <em>this</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>“I – I didn’t know my fool of a brother would hire a witcher!” cried the shop owner, fearful for his life. He patted his chest for a hidden key, “Just – give me a second. I’ll fetch what I can find!”</p><p> </p><p>Turning to open the door to the storage room, he disappeared for a good couple of minutes. Left alone, the White Wolf uncloaked his hooded head to uncover a bundle of disheveled, mud-drenched silver strands and a skin that turned dark with dirt. He was desperate for a bath and a bed, but without the promised payment, he was far from affording either.</p><p> </p><p>Travelling alone had drained his pockets and depleted his stock. This world was clearly no different than his, but it provided far more challenges than he was used to. It was unbelievable how he had run into drowners far more often in the past four days than he had in his entire life. No matter how many he slaughtered, more and more popped up like mushrooms. He eventually had to give up and run.</p><p> </p><p>The shop owner returned with a large smile, having collected his demeanor in the spare room, and placed in front of the White Wolf a few more coins and a set of vials that looked undeniably suspicious.</p><p> </p><p>“I said coin not scraps,” he barked, his patience drawing thin.</p><p> </p><p>“Wait! Hear me out,” announced the round-bellied man, both arms raised in defense, “Since you’ve come into town you might have noticed the start of the summer harvest celebration. It’s a grand time for all shops to make good investments and earn their living. I promise you by tomorrow morning that I would’ve made enough for us both to live off from for months to come. I’ll even add in an extra few coin as a gift. Until then, and to apologize earnestly for the wait, I offer you the ultimate set of the most delicious and thrilling liquor my shop can provide. One sip of one of these and you’ll save yourself the trouble of ordering ten expensive mugs of ale. It’s the strongest ever distilled. A family secret. Care to give it a try?”</p><p> </p><p>A scoff erupted from the ill-humored man.</p><p> </p><p>“An underpaid witcher is terrible enough. Try poisoning one and you’ll be dead before your head hits the floor.”</p><p> </p><p>“I wouldn’t dare!” insisted the other, then, to his surprise, watched the White Wolf gather the coins and vials off the counter to tuck inside his satchel.</p><p> </p><p>“Tomorrow morning. Don’t slack off,” came the final warning.</p><p> </p><p>“My word!” the shop owner’s squeaky yell was muffled behind the slammed door.</p><p> </p><p>Stopping in town was not part of the White Wolf’s plan. His original idea was to collect his fee, take a bath, drop by a brothel, and leave before the witch’s trail could turn cold. He liked to remind himself his nimble town-to-town travel was in no way related to his unwillingness to face Jaskier and the others – to whom he had purposefully left a clear track to follow –  instead he insisted he was focused on trailing the rumor he serendipitously captured in the previous village’s breeze.</p><p> </p><p><em>Have you heard?</em> whispered one villager to another, <em>the witch who came into town had healed a peasant without payment and left the very next day. Think she could have healed me, too, if I had asked her? </em></p><p> </p><p>The White Wolf probed left and right, threatened shop owners and terrorized civilians until he gathered enough information on where exactly she was headed.</p><p> </p><p>With two witchers in one team, the task to find her would have been child’s play, but the White Wolf was too proud to ask his other self for help any time soon. This stubbornness was what led him to spend every last coin on Roach’s food, Roach’s stable, a bed at the inn and no dinner.</p><p> </p><p>In the wake of the celebratory event in town, however, the innkeeper took pity in him and served him a free drink at the counter. The liquor barely tickled his throat and he began skipping side glances at the bulging vials clicking inside his satchel. He gave up eventually and condemned himself to an evening of regrets when his hand pulled one of the vials out and flicked it open for a careful sniff.  </p><p> </p><p>Kale, apple, and a stench of alcohol mingling into a shimmering green mixture with no toxicity registered. The drink, the White Wolf noted, was safe for consumption, so why not indulge while he could?</p><p> </p><p>The first vial warmed his belly and numbed his hunger. His body temperature rose to allay his physical stiffness and lull his preoccupied mind. At the bottom of the second vial, the White Wolf recuperated his lost determination and straightened his waning confidence. His eyes flickered to the room, crowded with merry folk and thick with sweat and arousal. It surprised him how fast his orbs were able to flicker, how sharply his nostrils could inhale. Every subtle movement went by noticed. It felt as if he existed in a slow-paced world within which he alone maintained his agility, his liveliness.</p><p> </p><p>The White Wolf had consumed incredible amounts of liquor in his time but none had kicked in so strongly before, leaving him with a taste of pure elation.</p><p> </p><p>He might have grown dazed, slightly intoxicated, but he was still fully in control of his actions, mental and physical. He noticed, for instance, with the flicker of an eyelid, the somber shadow traveling across the room, slithering between the people, firm in its steps but definite in its aim. He noticed, also, its inner core gravitationally significant, pulling his attention with clarity, coming for him.</p><p> </p><p>The White Wolf would have drawn his sword were he not in his elated state of mind, one step ahead of his usual self, very much aware of the harmless approach of the company. She was young, dark-skinned, and curly-haired. Her complexion reflected imminent beauty and although vaguely alarmed by her approach, the White Wolf found her undoubtedly to his taste.</p><p> </p><p>Unless that was her purpose – to <em>be</em> to his taste.</p><p> </p><p>Sharp golden hues captured dark browns. She looked at him with an air of amusement, as if she could effortlessly read his thoughts, and then lowered herself to occupy the empty seat to his left, shifting a leg upon the other, uncovering a trail of smooth skin under the slit-tailored ink dress.</p><p> </p><p>She was tempting him.</p><p> </p><p>“Looking lonely,” she observed – frighteningly accurate.</p><p> </p><p>“Alone,” he stubbornly corrected, shoving the empty vials back inside his satchel to go back to nestling the remnant of his ale, “And determined to keep it so.”</p><p> </p><p>She chuckled at his comment, discarded it with poise, then turned to watch the populous room.</p><p> </p><p>“You are waiting for someone,” she stated as a matter-of-fact, her voice velvety, certain, “To come through that door. Hence why you’re sitting with your back to it. A lover?”</p><p> </p><p>In a sober mood, the White Wolf would have bit back an unpleasant remark. But he was far from sober, so he amusedly huffed instead.</p><p> </p><p>“If you’re so observant you’d know I’m not looking for company.”</p><p> </p><p>That was half a lie. If it weren’t for his empty coin pouch, he would be at the local brothel cock deep into one of their sturdiest whores. He <em>was</em> looking for company, just not the talkative kind.</p><p> </p><p>She chuckled again, a soft relaxed blow of air, void of any hint of discomfort. She was not afraid of him and that bit told the White Wolf everything he needed to know. She was here for a reason.</p><p> </p><p>“Heard you’ve been looking for me,” she whispered, her stare digging deep into him, her smile slightly fading. “I don’t like being tailed, less by a witcher. What do you want?”</p><p> </p><p>The White Wolf’s head raised to confirm his suspicion.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>You’re</em> the witch?” he spoke quietly, the liquor still tingling at the tip of his tongue, burning to have his mouth run. “One spell and you lot are barely recognizable.”</p><p> </p><p>Her eyebrow rose in her forehead as if insulted.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes and no,” she stated, leaning in to brush cold fingers against his, and slipping the tankard out of his grasp for a swig, “I <em>am</em> a witch. But if you think I’d be showering myself with unethical shapeshifting spells, you must be confusing me with a far <em>lesser</em> witch.”</p><p> </p><p>The White Wolf’s eyes squinted suspiciously, scanning her facial expression for brief recognition. She was not lying. He lifted up the tankard to sip out the rest, tasting the shadow of her lips – minty, honeyed, pungent – at its edge.</p><p> </p><p>“If this is some old joke, I have little patience to see through with it,” he sighed. “You’ll send us back and I’ll consider sparing your life.”</p><p> </p><p>At that, she broke out laughing.</p><p> </p><p>“Why, aren’t you the gentleman?” </p><p> </p><p>“Not around liars."</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Us</em>,” she repeated, tilting her head slightly to the side to remain in his field of vision, “You and your lover, I presume?”</p><p> </p><p>"You’ll send us back."</p><p> </p><p>“Where to?”</p><p> </p><p>The question hung in the air unanswered. In her eyes the White Wolf viewed curiosity, clarity, but no signs of mischief. <em>Did he make a mistake?</em></p><p> </p><p>“Portals,” he urged, impatient, “Can you conjure them?”</p><p> </p><p>“Clearly,” she shrugged, “Any decent witch can.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then you will send us back to our world.”</p><p> </p><p>She paused, took in a short breath, then burst out laughing a second time – a merry, heartfelt laugh.</p><p> </p><p>“Portals are meant to travel through space <em>not</em> time,” she said, “To breach the interdimensional fabric would be to breach the balance of the universe. Every witch knows the rule. You cannot take without giving. You’ll create chaos.”</p><p> </p><p>“You –" he began, then was quick to correct himself, “<em>She</em> sent us here. Now there are four of us. If that isn’t chaos, I don’t want to know what is.”</p><p> </p><p>“A witch who dares breach so vital a rule must have only suffered drastic pain,” she admitted, staring pensively at her hands, her skin reflecting the dim light of the candles, “Rejection changes us. That’s why you’re here, aren't you?”</p><p> </p><p>The White Wolf could oppose neither of her statements. A witch who must have suffered so terrible a fate to the point of breaking the very convention of the universe reminded him of Yennefer. Perhaps the witch he was hunting was, similarly, twisted by the world, made to become hostile – a victim turned a monster. For a second, regret weighed on his shoulders. What happened to his morality of refusing to choose between two evils? Now he was out here bearing the consequences of hunting the lesser one.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m here because I fucked up,” he sighed, fingernails scratching the varnish off the table.</p><p> </p><p>“Perhaps you have,” came her comforting sigh, “You see, there is many a beautiful thing <em>we</em>, world-molded monsters, tend to overlook when seized by powerful emotions. Opening one’s eyes, understanding that who we are here for, <em>what</em> we are here for might change overtime, and that change is completely natural. Your being here might not be a call for a second chance, it might be an entirely new one.”</p><p> </p><p>The White Wolf scoffed at her speech.</p><p> </p><p>“What do <em>you</em> know about chances?”</p><p> </p><p>“Enough to guess yours is at the door.”</p><p> </p><p>With the spark of a glare, the White Wolf’s eyes darted over his shoulder. Through the thick fog of intoxicated and exuberant folk, he captured the figure of Dandelion shouting at the top of his lungs if anyone had seen a witcher. Two reciprocating yet liquored up men pulled him to the side, the stink of their arousal kicked the White Wolf instantaneously off his chair and with a throaty groan, he was leaving the smug witch to intervene.</p><p> </p><p>The men were far too plastered to stand their ground. With the push of a hand, the White Wolf was easily making room in between to reach for the bard and drag him out of the mess.</p><p> </p><p>“There he is, the Little Wo –!” Dandelion’s excitement was interrupted by the slip of his foot against the threshold. He clutched onto the White Wolf’s satchel and the entirely of its content came spilling into the ground.</p><p> </p><p>“For <em>fuck’s</em> sake, Dandelion.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m happy to see you too! Hold on, I got this – ” he insisted, then as he bent down to gather up the result of his clumsiness, he tripped a second time and fell hands deep into the muddy ground. The White Wolf realized he was drunk.</p><p> </p><p>“Where are the other two?”</p><p> </p><p>“The <em>other</em> <em>two</em> have names.”</p><p> </p><p>Behind him, the White Wolf watched Geralt gain distance towards him with incredible speed. His previously elated senses were knocked awake with a dry punch – the side of his jaw fell momentarily numb.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s for taking Roach without asking."</p><p> </p><p>“Melitele’s gracious bottom, Geralt, what are you doing?!”</p><p> </p><p>The voice of panic belonged to none other than Jaskier, the White Wolf guessed prior to raising his head at the familiar figure. He rubbed the side of his jaw – admitting he very much deserved <em>that</em> – and turned to retrieve his satchel from Dandelion’s dirt-blackened hands.</p><p> </p><p>“What a glorious reunion!” chanted Dandelion, arms stretched in an invitation for an embrace the White Wolf denied with an instant glare, “We’ve just come in, seen the festivities and thought, well, surely our friend is not strolling far off from free liquor town. It was my idea to look first inside the tavern and see? <em>I</em> was right.”</p><p> </p><p>The second part of his statement was spoken towards Jaskier, who was quick to cross his arms and roll an eye.</p><p> </p><p>“First, you say,” he scoffed, greatly amused, “<em>First</em>, you grew so desperately emotional about not finding him that you had to drink yourself stupid, <em>then</em> you grew even <em>more</em> emotional about being emotional that you started barging into every store asking if they’ve seen a witcher. I count at least five terrified shop owners and two children permanently traumatized in the process. Well <em>fucking</em> done.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Anyway</em>,” yelled Dandelion at the top of his voice – his drunken self recreating a whole new meaning for the word <em>annoying</em>. “To cut the introductions short, Little Wolf, meet the littlest wolf of our team, Salmon.”</p><p> </p><p>Dandelion removed the flap of his leather bag and uncovered among two of the vials he clearly stole from the White Wolf the shape of a ball of fur. It moved, surprisingly, until a pair of pointy ears perked up from their hiding and a snout followed. By the time Dandelion reached to gather the cub back in, it had already half-sprung out of its confinement to lay a violent bite on the White Wolf’s hand – the result was a minimal scratch.</p><p> </p><p>“There, there, easy now, little girl!” Dandelion held her gently in his arms and rubbed the back of her ears the way she seemed to like it. “Guess I was wrong to think all wolves were bound to get along.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Terribly</em>,” scoffed Geralt in the back.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re taking in strays now?” mocked the White Wolf, his stare forwarded towards Geralt.</p><p> </p><p>“Only those who <em>behave</em>,” he muttered back, his eyes piercing him back with clear hostility.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t you start, the two of you!” interrupted Jaskier, standing in between, “Leave the bickering to the bards. Besides, there’s no point in having you jump at each other’s throats now. <em>You</em> already delivered your revengeful punch, and <em>you</em> have better learned your lesson by now. Next time you want to run off somewhere, at least tell us. Seriously, what were you thinking?”</p><p> </p><p>One glance, that was all it took for the White Wolf to realize he <em>knew</em>. He silently cursed Dandelion for running his mouth – because who else could it have been – and shrugged in the face of Jaskier’s frown.</p><p> </p><p>“Had no choice,” he said, “The snoring was terrible.”</p><p> </p><p>At his answer, Jaskier’s face brightened with a unique grin. Behind him, Dandelion’s groan was heard.</p><p> </p><p>“It is terrible, isn’t it? I told you!” stated Jaskier in triumph, his gaze darting towards Dandelion. “Congratulations, my dear, you are now officially a nuisance.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, shut your mouth you –"</p><p> </p><p>“Come again? Sorry, I’m having difficulties hearing you over the sound of your oinking. Man, this town sure has a pig problem.”</p><p> </p><p>Seized with burning anger, Dandelion picked up one of the empty vials from the ground and flung it towards him. Jaskier dodged it by a bit, and the two riled each other up into another verbal fight.</p><p> </p><p>The White Wolf let his gaze flee towards the tavern door. Inside, the loudness of the folk dancing and singing and conversing concealed all else around it. At the counter, his tankard sat where he had left it, his seat now occupied by an old drunk. The one beside it was vacant.</p><p> </p><p>This time, at least, he wanted to believe he had made the right choice.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Miracle</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>This took ages, yes, I admit it. But guess what? Exams are over and I am back, lovelies!</p><p>I had half of this chapter sitting aside for over a month and only picked it up today, fully motivated out of the blue (because being stressed apparently drains one's writing skills, who would've known?) and finished it at once. I'm happy with the result, considering I've been wondering how to get this part out for a while now.</p><p>Anyway, ramblings aside, happy to be back, looking forward to seeing y'all back on board, and enjoy!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Free drinks.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Free drinks.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Free – </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Fuck, I think I’m going to vomit."</p><p> </p><p>“Disgusting! Make sure you get as far away from us as you possibly can!” spat a loud minstrel, <em>was that Jaskier?</em></p><p> </p><p>“Not here,” grunted another – clearly Geralt.</p><p> </p><p>“For fuck’s sake, Dandelion.” A tone of utter disappointment laced that last one. It could only be the White Wolf.</p><p> </p><p>From all three statements, Dandelion understood that the rant about his physical intoxication – and all implications tied to it – was unwanted in anyone’s vicinity.</p><p> </p><p>Their reaction was completely self-explanatory. The moment the sun had set and the village lit up the bonfire to start serving food and liquor for all people to feast upon, Dandelion was doomed – in the most delightful way possible. He had drunk more in the past hours than he had in the past two months combined.</p><p> </p><p>“Fine, fine, I’m going!” he grunted, wobbling upwards to make way out of the group amassed in a circle.</p><p> </p><p>Was it just him or was everyone rocking back and forth?</p><p> </p><p>He chuckled. Their faces looked funny.</p><p> </p><p>“Careful. And don’t get yourself killed.”</p><p> </p><p>He was given a helpful push from the back to regain his posture – or at least try not to fall off on his face. He guessed it was the White Wolf’s doing, who was as spent as the rest of them after sharing his not-suspicious-at-all vials. Dandelion had a sip – one! – and he was knocked out instantaneously.</p><p> </p><p>It was a fun experience, nevertheless. Well, minus the aftermath which had Dandelion’s stomach turn upside down the second he settled on his two feet.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, fuuuck!”</p><p> </p><p>The curse stretched for as long as he sprinted – or rather staggered – to the closest alleyway. The content of the past two hours’ worth of drinking was spilled on the corner of the closest wall, and thank the gods, emptying his stomach helped knock some sense back into his disoriented mind.</p><p> </p><p>The world was still rocking on a boat eyesight-wise, so he rested his back against the wall to regain his breath. It was a fun night, surely, but the hangover promised to be anything but. Good thing he had left Salmon by Geralt’s side earlier, else he would have hated her witnessing so humiliating a side of his – he was a responsible parent, alright!</p><p> </p><p>“Come on, let’s do it!”</p><p> </p><p>“Here?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes here!”</p><p> </p><p>The whispered exchange was accompanied by a series of giggles. Dandelion turned his head to the other end of the alleyway to identify, with squinted eyes, the shape of two moon-kissed individuals humping each other in the open.</p><p> </p><p>“Disgraceful,” he mumbled to himself, then kept watching.</p><p> </p><p>They kissed deeply – <em>no</em>, Dandelion corrected himself, <em>disgustingly deep</em> – then the woman’s dress was swayed up and her legs followed. Her moans broke out in the open like an impaled pigeon’s cries, <em>god was she loud</em>, and the man buried his face into her bosom, <em>god was he indecent</em>, and the two rose and fell until nothing else but their lascivious sounds were heard in the circumference.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>God was this… tempting. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The encounter lasted faster than it started, <em>shameful</em>, and soon Dandelion’s presence was noticed and with a loud gasp and a few shouted curses, the two lovebirds scampered off elsewhere.</p><p> </p><p>He was left alone with his thoughts – and hard-on.</p><p> </p><p>“Curse my luck.”</p><p> </p><p>He peeled his back off the wall and made back to his group. Upon his return, he noticed that Geralt and Jaskier went missing and the White Wolf was now sitting alone nestling a tankard of ale recently refilled.</p><p> </p><p>“Terrible coping mechanism,” announced Dandelion upon approach, “Would strongly advise against it.”</p><p> </p><p>The White Wolf scoffed, then took a swig, “Wise words from the man who chugged a dozen.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m feeling refreshed now, mind you,” he shrugged, crossing his arms. He did, though the lingering drowsiness was still strongly present, occasionally slurring his speech. “Where did those imbeciles go to now?”</p><p> </p><p>The White Wolf opened his mouth but Dandelion was already raising a hand to stop him.</p><p> </p><p>“Save it. I say good riddance to both. That aside…” He stumbled over a few legs and apologized to whomever they belonged, then leaned down to the White Wolf’s vicinity. “I have a grand idea as to where we could spend the rest of <em>our</em> evening, my dear friend.”</p><p> </p><p>He received nothing further than a quirked eyebrow. Dandelion took that as the White Wolf’s way of showing complete interest. He was quick to flash a grin and tip his head towards town.</p><p> </p><p>“Brothels and sweet company, Little Wolf, need I say more?”</p><p> </p><p>The answer was no. He did not need to, for the White Wolf was up and following after him faster than he had ever seen him react. It could have been the alcohol crumbling that last wall of dignity any of them had left, he thought, but then by the time they stopped at the door and the White Wolf was first to barge into the establishment, Dandelion knew it was beyond that. The man had been at his limit – and how could one not be after spending four miserable days in the company of two hypersexual <em>assholes</em>?</p><p> </p><p>“Two of your finest beauties,” demanded Dandelion at the reception, his eyes already wondering about. The brothel was more crowded than ever, and the appearance of a witcher at the door was quick to become the center of all attention.</p><p> </p><p>“One,” said the older woman with a frown. Dandelion’s confused stare refocused on her.</p><p> </p><p>“I beg your pardon?”</p><p> </p><p>“Are you deaf or what? I said you’re only getting one,” she spat bluntly, then threw a glare towards the White Wolf. “Ain’t a chance I’d let any of my girls sleep with <em>that</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Dandelion gasped.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>How dare she?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Now, listen here you – “</p><p> </p><p>“It’s fine.”</p><p> </p><p>Dandelion threw a glance over his shoulder. Behind him the White Wolf was already half-turned towards the door.</p><p> </p><p>“You – what? No, it’s not!” Dandelion retaliated, “Clearly this isn’t fair!”</p><p> </p><p>“Doesn’t matter,” he shrugged, “You go ahead.”</p><p> </p><p>“Wait, wait, wait!"</p><p> </p><p>He was already halfway out of the door when Dandelion’s grip came seizing him by the forearm. He dragged his weight all the way back to the reception where the old hag was stationed.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>This</em> has a name,” Dandelion spat, pointing the obvious, “And <em>he</em> is as much of a man as any other. Now, I pay you triple the amount for only one of your girls, in return, I and my friend here get to enjoy our time while <em>I</em> keep an eye on him. Deal?”</p><p> </p><p>The old hag opened her mouth to protest, but her lips fell shut at the sight of the coin. She slipped it under her cloak faster than Dandelion could follow.</p><p> </p><p>“One scream and you’re both dead men,” she warned.</p><p> </p><p>“What if it’s one of pleasure?” suggested Dandelion with a smug wink.</p><p> </p><p>The old hag rolled her eyes at him. “Get a move on. You’ve clogging the darn entrance.”</p><p> </p><p>“Nice doing business with you, too.”</p><p> </p><p>With a grin of triumph, Dandelion nudged his companion in victory, and the two were made to follow a young beauty that materialized out of thin air. They entered a room in the second floor, and once the door closed shut, the White Wolf’s realization seemed to finally dawn upon him.</p><p> </p><p>“What the fuck is this, Dandelion?” he muttered to his ear right by the door. “Why’s there only one?”</p><p> </p><p>“Didn’t you pick up on the discussion we had downstairs?” Dandelion returned, “Just how hammered are you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Fuck off.”</p><p> </p><p>“Very, I take it,” laughed the minstrel, “Look, relax. Everything will be alright. Let me take the lead and you shall follow. Only keep in mind: hurting, no, pleasuring, <em>absolutely</em>.”</p><p> </p><p><em>“</em>I know how <em>fucking</em> works,” scoffed the White Wolf, quick to defend his pride. Dandelion knew if his needs weren’t so dire, he would have taken off ages ago.</p><p> </p><p>“You boys coming?”</p><p> </p><p>The young beauty was seated on the bed, dressed in a thin red silk shawl that graced her plump figure. She was leaning back, palms sunken into the mattress, head tilted towards them in an inviting posture.</p><p> </p><p>“Of course we are,” mused Dandelion with an excited grin. He nudged the White Wolf to follow as he made for the middle of the room. There was a nightstand on each side, crowded with candles that graced the dim lighting of the scenery and raised the haziness of the liquor from the pit of Dandelion’s stomach. <em>God, he needed this.</em></p><p> </p><p>“What’s your name, sweetheart?” asked the woman with tender eyes. She had reached out to hold Dandelion by the hand and lead him by her side on the bed.</p><p> </p><p>He followed her motion with eagerness, then pealed his hat off with his other hand in a greeting gesture. “Call me Dandelion,” he said, then turned his gaze to his companion who stood before them in utter awkwardness. “And he’s the White Wolf.”</p><p> </p><p>“Such names you two have!” she laughed a tired, amused laugh. Dandelion wondered just how many clients she had before them. She appeared quite relaxed but her general demeanor gave off an air of exhaustion. “You can call me –"</p><p> </p><p>“Miracle,” finished off Dandelion with a subtle purr. He lifted up the hand which she had captured earlier and placed a kiss upon its knuckles. “For that is what a life-changing beauty such as yourself must be.”</p><p> </p><p>The woman laughed again, merrily this time. Her mood seemed to have lifted up. Dandelion was pleased to see it.</p><p> </p><p>“Miracle, it is,” she grinned, pressing her cheek to her shoulder and batting her eyelashes at Dandelion. “So, charming man, why don’t you tell me how you and your stone of a friend over there like your miracles?”</p><p> </p><p>Dandelion raised a sharp stare towards the White Wolf, tipping his head to have him join. The White Wolf frowned in response and stood there, unmoving. Dandelion’s glare darkened, and he must have looked terribly persuasive because soon, the White Wolf was budging off his spot to sit to Miracle’s left side.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh my,” she mouthed with her head turned towards him, “I’ve never seen a witcher from up close. You sure are a sight for sore eyes.”</p><p> </p><p>“Right?” added an eager Dandelion.</p><p> </p><p>Miracle turned back to him with a grin.</p><p> </p><p>“I take it you two have <em>that</em> kind of relationship?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh?” mouthed a confused Dandelion, then broke out chuckling, “Oh, no, dear. You’re mistaken. Little Wolf and I are just –"</p><p> </p><p>Miracle’s gentle fingers came pressing to his lips.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s all right, sweetheart,” she hummed, leaning in to breathe against his mouth, “Believe it or not. This is the most excitement I’ve gotten in months.”</p><p> </p><p>A low, barely audible grunt escaped in the open. Dandelion caught Miracle’s hand sliding between the White Wolf’s legs. At that same moment, her lips came to seal Dandelion’s with a kiss, and he thought if anything, after a day of hard work, Miracle deserved to live off her fantasy.</p><p> </p><p>It has been quite some time since Dandelion had last been blessed by the touch of a woman – or a man for that matter, though he had had less luck bedding the latter so he usually settled with the former – and Miracle was quick to prove she was living up for her name.</p><p> </p><p>The sweet kisses she offered turned languid in a matter of seconds. She bore an impressive amount of experience at the tip of her tongue, which ignited Dandelion’s desire with the promise of just what else she must be skilled at.</p><p> </p><p>Dandelion was and will remain a gentleman, but in his ignitions, he tended to lose himself to physical passion – add intoxication to the equation and he was pretty much incapable of controlling himself. So when Miracle urged his hand across her inner thigh, he knew exactly what was to be done.</p><p> </p><p>Another sigh broke his concentration all the while he dipped his fingers under Miracles shawl. In the tilt of his head, deep into her appetizing mouth, his eyes flickered open to catch sight of the source of his disorientation.</p><p> </p><p>Right. The White Wolf was still here.</p><p> </p><p>Miracle's hand had long slid under his unlaced breeches and whatever she was doing, Dandelion could tell it was working wonders on his friend. Half-sunken into the mattress, head tipped down, his silver locks partially concealing his face. Through the thick locks, however, Dandelion was able to recognize a pair of half-lid eyes and vaguely parted lips that dragged in long sips of air resulting in quiet almost inaudible groans in the open.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>What a sight.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Wait, no. Not a sight!</em>
</p><p> </p><p>He brought back his attention to his former muse the second a sound of appreciation escaped her. What could Dandelion say? He was great at whatever he laid his hands on. People included. Unsurprising that Miracle was soon swooning under his intimate touch. Surprising, however, that she was quick to retrieve her skillful tongue from his mouth and batting her long eyelashes at him with a bit-too-enthusiastic coyly grin.</p><p> </p><p>“What do you want me to do to him?” she demanded.</p><p> </p><p>Dandelion might have minutely frozen in his skin.</p><p> </p><p>Her utterance was whispered quietly, and clearly it didn’t manage to reach the White Wolf whose bottom lip hung a tad lower than before, and<em> good god did he just hear him moan?</em></p><p> </p><p>“Take him in your mouth, love,” he found himself dictating with the confidence of a man who knew exactly what he was doing – hint, <em>he</em> <em>didn’t</em>.</p><p> </p><p>A spark of excitement flashed in Miracle’s eyes and without further ado, she was turning to the White Wolf with unmatched eagerness, pushing and pulling with clear experience until she got him straddled on the bed with his back to the headboard and his eyes wide with confusion.</p><p> </p><p>“Relax for me, sweetheart, will you?” she mused while laying a peck to his cheek, “Let’s give your man a legendary view.”</p><p> </p><p>Dandelion wished he could correct her misunderstanding right then and there because <em>god this is going to get awfully awkward</em> but intoxication won the war yet again and by the time the White Wolf threw a glance over to his direction, Dandelion flashed him the most pompous side-smile he could muster. <em>Right, they were both drunk, so what was the harm in it?</em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Just a fun night, Dandelion. That’s what this is about.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Fooling one’s self was quite easy when one was either gullible enough or terribly desperate. Dandelion was shamelessly both. So when he swallowed the lump of hesitation that had settled in his throat and watched Miracle’s invitation who had lifted up the fabric of the shawl off her hips to reveal her backside, Dandelion deemed himself doomed and long done for.</p><p> </p><p>It was a shame that most brothel whores preferred getting right into the act without prior foreplay – and quite understandable, really, when they have a dozen clients a day – because, truly, to Dandelion, the real fun laid in precisely that: teasing, taunting, testing their limits. <em>That</em> was the <em>real</em> fun of all. But well, one had to make do with what they were given, Dandelion thought while sinking inside her with ease. She was warm, damp, ready. Pleasing, really, if it wasn’t for the slight hint of something <em>missing</em>. In his drunken state, Dandelion could not bring himself to pinpoint exactly <em>what</em>, so he seized her by the hips ever so gently and began delivering slow, tempting thrusts.</p><p> </p><p>“Ah –"</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>There he is. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Wait. Wait, he?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Dandelion’s exhaustion-hooded eyes spread wide open so as to take in the scenery unravelling in front of him. Yes, there was no mistaking it, he was certainly half-way inside Miracle’s lovely insides, and Miracle was nose deep into the White Wolf’s pelvis, and yet the sensual moan erupting into the open was none other than the latter’s.</p><p> </p><p>A few experimental thrusts later, Dandelion recognized his hip motions resulted in Miracle taking him deeper – hence the moans – and that the harder he went, the louder he would get.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I’m drunk. I can’t help it. A man’s ought to have his fun.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Such was the line of lies Dandelion kept feeding himself throughout the rest of the act. Miracle’s soft cries joined in somewhere in between when she pulled her head back, arched her pretty back, and braced herself for her nearing orgasm. It was exciting, in every sense of the word, to have a person who spends their days pleasing others be for once at the receiving end instead. Dandelion prided himself on the result, throbbing all the more with the merciful promises of what else their night withheld.</p><p> </p><p>Except, once Miracle reached the highest ground of pure salvation, she fell limbless on the bed, unmoved.</p><p> </p><p>Seized with concern, Dandelion shook her gently awake with the White Wolf peering over his shoulder. Her lips were soon stretching into a thin smile, tired, yet thoroughly fulfilled.</p><p> </p><p>“You boys can take care of each other, don’t worry about me.”</p><p> </p><p>Her heavy eyelids fell shut right then and there and she immediately dozed off into momentarily sleep.</p><p> </p><p>Dandelion’s heart clenched in compassion towards the young beauty. In so festive a day, he could only begin to imagine how long she must have been working her delicate body, striving hard to please both her customers and the owner of the establishment – he suddenly despised the old hag all the more.</p><p> </p><p>“Good god, this is why I both love <em>and</em> despise brothels,” commented Dandelion, “Look at the poor thing.”</p><p> </p><p>The White Wolf made a sound similar to an agreeing grunt. The bed sank under his weight and Dandelion turned his attention to his companion readjusting his shirt and lacing back together his breeches. He was having a difficult time with the latter, considering he, too, was still desperately unsatisfied, and the resulting bulge was quite difficult to conceal.</p><p> </p><p>“Are we heading back?” asked Dandelion while gently covering the lovely Miracle with her soft shawl and placing a tender kiss to her cheek. His unfulfillment aside, Dandelion was pleased to see her in such bliss.</p><p> </p><p>“Unless you have more coin to spare,” came the grunt of the other. Under his collected demeanor, Dandelion picked up a hint of frustration he could only relate to. There was also the faint slur to his speech and the darker tint to his complexion, which hinted to his state of being far beyond worked out.</p><p> </p><p>“Fair enough,” sighed Dandelion resolutely, “My last I have spent on lovely Miracle, and what a miracle she was, indeed.”</p><p> </p><p>His answer must have resonated differently within the White Wolf, who had spared a swift glance over his shoulder towards the bed where Dandelion was still half-seated, having, however, shoved his discomfort back where it belong: two layers underneath.</p><p> </p><p>He seemed to hesitate for a brief moment, as if the utterance he aimed to speak teased the tip of his tongue, engaging what little capacity his dulled brain to judge its adequacy, before he could let it slip in the open.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re too considerate.”</p><p> </p><p>The comment had left Dandelion unconditionally sober, self-aware, and curious. Even after they have left the premises, he found the words resounding in the back of his mind with redundancy, seeking to understand their meaning to no avail.</p><p> </p><p>The night was, all in all, a mild success. Words rather unusually spoken by someone whose erection was still throbbing underneath his breeches after stepping out of a brothel.</p><p> </p><p>While they strode their way back to their inn chamber – once again shared between the two of them because <em>curse you Jaskier and Geralt for being unable to keep your hands off each other for one godforsaken night</em> – an idea struck Dandelion out of absolutely nowhere.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you still have some of it?” Dandelion demanded, hand on the door handle he had just managed to close to conceal the muffled moans surging from the room across – <em>once again, fuck you very much, Jaskier and Geralt. Truly terrible timing.</em></p><p> </p><p>The White Wolf had already rid himself of his upper shirt – still bearing a light chemise underneath – the second they set foot inside. Dandelion bent swiftly over to peel it off the ground after him.</p><p> </p><p>“Some of what?” came the slurred answer, half-distracted by unlacing his knotted breeches – <em>good lord, was he trying to get naked?</em></p><p> </p><p>“The vials,” hinted Dandelion, folding the piece of clothing and laying it on the nearest dresser before he could rid himself of his mud-drenched boots. “I feel the intoxication seeping out of my mind and I do not like it one bit. The night’s still long, and there’s much left to be done.”</p><p> </p><p>The words seemed to work wonders on the White Wolf, whose posture froze ever so briefly before he turned to shove a hand into his satchel and peel what Dandelion deduced as the last vial of the lot.</p><p> </p><p>It was a stunningly-looking flask, a transparent cylindrical glass shimmering with the pale green-bluish liquid that filled its content to the brim. The sight of it alone brought Dandelion to drool. Whichever store sold those, Dandelion was willing to snatch himself at least a dozen prior to their departure come the morrow.</p><p> </p><p>The flask’s lid popped open under the White Wolf’s thumb, and the tip of the glass came meeting his mouth, throat bobbing soon after to receive the liquid into his system.</p><p> </p><p>Dandelion, far too thrilled by the eye-catching sight – the line of liquor trailing down the side of his mouth and the low-dipped frown reflecting the strong consistency intercepted by his taste buds – was late to recognize what was actually happening. The White Wolf was taunting him by emptying the vial on his own.</p><p> </p><p>Loud footsteps trudged over the wooden floor, careless of their sleeping neighbors, and Dandelion came snatching the half-drained flask right out of his hand. He was met with clear resistance, and with the White Wolf now entirely turned towards him, Dandelion had no longer the need to hold back from slamming him right across the nearest wall and fighting tooth and nail to peel the precious drink off his hand – which he, after a lot of back and forth pulling, finally managed.</p><p> </p><p>“What do you think you’re doing?” Dandelion snarled, "Leave some for me!"</p><p> </p><p>“It’s mine. Fuck off.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sharing’s caring, asshole.”</p><p> </p><p>“Fuck you.”</p><p> </p><p>To which Dandelion answered by finishing the rest of the drink right under his nose, then proceeded to bat his eyelashes at his counterpart whom he was still seizing by the collar.</p><p> </p><p>“You wouldn’t have it in you, Little Wolf.”</p><p> </p><p>That comment alone seemed to have broken something intensely maddening inside the White Wolf, who had scoffed and shoved Dandelion off him with bitterness, then seized the empty vial off his hand to sip the last drops hopelessly.</p><p> </p><p>Dandelion stumbled a bit but maintained himself on his two legs. Witcher strength in consideration, either the White Wolf was going easy on him, or the man was completely inebriated. He watched him pace across the room to sit at the edge of the bed and begin ridding himself off his boots. His fingers could barely hold a lace, and when they did, it was the wrong one. After a couple of tries, he gave up, and began pulling at it in hope of getting it off him without disentangling the complex mechanism.</p><p> </p><p>“Need a hand with that?” offered Dandelion, a mischievous smile dancing across his face.</p><p> </p><p>He received nothing but a grunt, followed by further kicks on the boots in hope they would magically slip off his feet. With an amused chuckle, Dandelion approached the other, knelt in front of him and slapped his hands off to start the correct process of unlacing. The boots came off with ease after that, and the White Wolf groaned in content.</p><p> </p><p>“See? It’s quite all right to let another take care of you once in a while.”</p><p> </p><p>He set the boots at the side of the bed and raised his head towards his companion, expecting a glare if anything, for daring to show him how to do things <em>because a witcher knows how to handle himself,</em> but to his greatest surprise, he was met by a set of intriguing golden-shimmering hues that sparked with something akin to fire. The White Wolf was not himself, he told himself right then and there, when the other reached to seize him by the chin.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re drunk,” he said, as if coming upon a distasteful conclusion.</p><p> </p><p>“We both are,” came the answer. He tilted his head vaguely to the side, a smirk gracing his lips. “The question here is, what shall we do with it?”</p><p> </p><p>The White Wolf renounced to answer, his pride aside, his curiosity winning over, and Dandelion took that as an invitation to do as he pleased.</p><p> </p><p>And that he did, lifting himself up, his lips came claiming the other’s, and between the <em>Jesus, what the hell am I doing</em>, and <em>fuck I’m drunk</em>, and <em>good god this feels good</em>, there was no stopping him anymore.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So, yeah, it is getting somewhat /hot in here/. I will be asking again (as I did for chapter 3) if you guys are interested in an explicit chapter of what goes under the drapes or if you would prefer to skip forward to the next morning. No shame, both are good (except perhaps you might miss out on Little Wolf's *cough* praise kink *cough*)</p><p>Let me know in the comments. &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Never Drinking Again</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>I'm back with the new chapter and to scream at the top of my lungs for having reached over 10k views. Y'all, this is amazing!</p><p>On a more serious note: Slow updates because I'm writing my thesis, wrapping up my studies, taking a creative writing course, and working all at once. Bear with me!</p><p>Enough of my lamenting. Enjoy the smut!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Was he out of his mind?</p><p> </p><p><br/>
Yes, absolutely. He must be.</p><p> </p><p>Or else why would he be thinking Dandelion, who now was sat in front of him, knee flat against the floor and slender fingers working through the thick knots of his muddy boots – which he had only worsened through his previous failed attempts at tugging and pulling – anything close to <em>tempting</em>?</p><p> </p><p>He was drunk. Wasted. Flushed. Call it whatever. The White Wolf was surely acting out of impulsion.</p><p> </p><p>The warmth at the pit of his stomach had begun simmering ever since Miracle entered his view. Except, it wasn’t exactly Miracle – was that even her real name? – who had incited it. It was the setting in all its entirety. </p><p><br/>
It started with Dandelion taking the lead into the brothel, fighting for his dignity at the counter, trusting him enough to share a night he could have otherwise selfishly enjoyed by himself. It was the hint of relief in his eyes, hours before then, when he first laid eyes on his flushed shape by the tavern’s door. It was the subtle comments, as nonchalantly spoken and as sarcastically uttered, that still bore within them a sense of comfort, an invisible pat on the back, an unspoken <em>‘you can do this’</em>.</p><p> </p><p>It was everything he hasn’t been seeing when he was supposed to. Far too blinded by his heartbreak, his unrequited love, far too engrossed in his self-lamenting to see when another was suffering the same faith.</p><p> </p><p>The White Wolf might be slow, but he was no fool – he knew. His weren’t the only unrequited feeling in their group of four. Was Geralt even aware of what he was doing to his own best friend?</p><p> </p><p>Aware, he certainly wasn’t. A fool, that he was. They were both fools. Clueless, heartless, cold fools.</p><p> </p><p>When cornflower blues fell on him amidst a lustful groan extracted under Miracle’s longing touches, the White Wolf knew immediately what it was he was beginning to harbor.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>And fuck, he was done for.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Though, who was he to blame? They might look nothing alike, but they were still the same. A man has got to pretend, to dream.</p><p> </p><p>Is that what this was about? Him, pretending Dandelion was Jaskier, like the desperate piece of misery that he was?</p><p> </p><p>Miserable, desperate, and drunk.</p><p> </p><p>His second-guessing was quick to run down the drain when the heat boiling inside of him was met with a splash of lust, soon bursting into raging flames when those <em>god-fucking-save-me-from-shit-poetry</em> blue hues caught him. Dandelion was done unlacing and removing his boots which he had carefully set aside by the bed’s foot to rise to his level.</p><p> </p><p>If there was one thing the White Wolf cursed upon the power of alcohol, it was how the thoughts could barely grace his mind before his limbs were already up and enacting them.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re drunk,” he said, cursing himself for having mustered the courage to be holding the other’s chin so deliberately.</p><p> </p><p>He could just pull back, look away, spout nonsense about being drunk, and fall asleep in pretense of being knocked out. But when those eyes – god since when were those eyes looking at him like <em>that</em>? – peered at him from under tempting eyelashes, the White Wolf might have as well made a deal with the devil himself.</p><p> </p><p>“We both are,” came Dandelion’s playful answer. The tilt of his head, the smirk on his lips, the brown locks falling over his cheeks, slightly disheveled – the White Wolf could almost swear he and Jaskier were one and the same.</p><p> </p><p>Except they were not. Dandelion had something else about him. Something that was purely him, something he could not yet put a finger on.</p><p> </p><p>Something –</p><p> </p><p>“The question here is,” came the other's addition, cutting his string of thoughts short, “What shall we do with it?”</p><p> </p><p>Then he was up and invading his space, and the White Wolf, as bewildered and guiltily excited as he was, found it in him to reciprocate.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Fuck, he was never drinking again after this. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>In his breathless cursing, his body fell back into the mattress, elbows sinking into the clean drapes while Dandelion’s filthy mouth worked him open. He tasted like minty liquor, ale, and – <em>honey</em>? No, clearly, he had made up the last bit. Who the fuck would taste like honey after downing an entire barrel of ale within two hours and spilling it all out in an alleyway? No, what the White Wolf was tasting was his own raging lust. An erection had one’s imagination flow abundantly. Add a second and you have complete fools making out on a bedroom across from the one where their other-selves were doing the <em>exact same</em>.</p><p> </p><p>That thought alone must have been enough to drench the fire of lust to nothingness, so why was he still so agonizingly aching? Dandelion was kissing his lips, biting onto the bottom one, and frantically rocking his hips was <em>why</em>.</p><p> </p><p>“Wait –"</p><p> </p><p>“What?” came the irritated groan, breathed across from his mouth. He could almost see it written in his general demeanor just how frustrated the minstrel was.</p><p> </p><p>“What the fuck are we doing?”</p><p> </p><p>“We’re both flushed, White Wolf,” came the desperate answer, spoken from someone wiser than a drunk, “And we're both equally aching for a bit of fun.”</p><p> </p><p>“Speak for yourself.” While grunting, he got kissed again in between, and he did not shy away from biting Dandelion’s lip bleeding. Though, If anything, the bite did nothing but make him more eager.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, really?,” he teased, rosy tongue flush against the bleeding bite, licking it off clean, “You wouldn’t take advantage of the situation, although yours truly looks wonderfully like the spit image of your desperate love?”</p><p> </p><p>“Jaskier’s <em>not</em> my desperate love,” grunted the White Wolf almost immediately. “And you look nothing like him.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why, thank you for stating the obvious. I’m clearly far better looking than that sorry skunk." He leaned to graze the edge of the White Wolf’s ear with his next words, “For one, I know how to discipline a <em>bad wolf</em> when I catch one.”</p><p> </p><p>The threat should have made him feel repulsed and wary for all the obvious reasons and yet –</p><p> </p><p>Yet his physical betrayal throbbed under his half-undone breeches in demand for the delivered promise. To his despair, Dandelion had picked up on the occurrence far too quick, eager to flash his most prideful grin in response: the unspoken form of <em>I knew it</em>. His smug smirk left sooner than later, quickly replaced by a wince that traced his features as a result of his split bottom lip. A few droplets of blood came seeping out to taint the surface of his mouth and the sight stirred an animalistic sense of temptation within the White Wolf.</p><p> </p><p>There was only so much a man could handle – let alone a frenzied witcher.</p><p> </p><p>The grip around his collar tightened, and with a controlled shove to the side, he had the minstrel underneath him in a second. Dandelion rejoiced when his lips came trapping the injury like a blood-thirsty beast. The bitter taste of iron mingled with his discharge of pheromones and the words he spoke earlier resonated in his head like a hammer.</p><p> </p><p>“You’ve been pining for him how long?” he spat as if the words tasted terrible at the tip of his tongue.</p><p> </p><p>“There he is!” teased the bard against his lips, his fingers quick to seize his silver locks, rough, ungentle – arousing. “Took you long enough, but I believe we are all bound to eventually open our eyes to a worthy feast.”</p><p> </p><p>“Cut the bullshit,” came the impatient grunt, “Since when?”</p><p> </p><p>“Since long,” he chuckled, propping himself on his elbows to graze the tip of his nose against the White Wolf’s, “Since I’ve laid eyes on his stunning rear, wouldn’t quit dreaming of doing all sorts of things to it. Why don’t I show you?”</p><p> </p><p>The haze of intoxication aside, it was child’s play to spot the prompt hint of honesty flashing in Dandelion’s blue hues, even when he pulled his best act to conceal it with humor.</p><p> </p><p>“And you call me desperate? Look at you. Ready to jump his duplicate the second you’ve got the chance to relive a bit of that flame. Does he even know? Oh, of course he doesn’t. You’re too much of a coward to tell him.”</p><p> </p><p>A sudden silence fell. The White Wolf thought he might have stepped over a line, let his drowsy tongue run relentlessly without filtering any of the words that could pierce the blade of unrequited longing even further down the other’s chest.</p><p> </p><p>Instead, Dandelion laughed wholeheartedly.</p><p> </p><p>“You witchers are all bark and no bite.”</p><p> </p><p>“Watch your mouth.”</p><p> </p><p>“Or else?”</p><p> </p><p>The challenging tone came with the unexpected yanking of the White Wolf’s hair. He retorted with a hiss, feeling himself harden at the mere gesture. There was no point in denying himself any longer. If the other was willing to play pretend, then so be it.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, that face,” purred the other under him, reaching out to graze his fingers along his jawline, “Perfect. Keep looking at me just like that.”</p><p> </p><p>A twirl of excitement burned in the pit of his stomach, alarming him of his hopeless condition while he was eased into a hungry kiss. With the roll of his hips, Dandelion grinded against him, and the action ran a shudder down his spine. He could feel the outline of his erection rubbing against his own, and was reminded of Miracle’s moans as it slipped inside of her and worked her to completion.</p><p> </p><p>An ache, deep inside him, wanted to <em>feel</em> it.</p><p> </p><p>Fingertips came fiddling with the laces of his breaches, and the White Wolf dropped his eyes down to Dandelion’s exposed cock. He raised a swift glance towards him only to be met with a pair of longing eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“Go on, have a taste,” he said, voice raspy, coated by a layer of impatience. He, too, was at his limit.</p><p> </p><p>When he brought his lips around the tip of the length, the grip in his hair tightened almost instantly. They did warn him that bards were loud. He also lived through Jaskier’s series of loud love-making in adjacent rooms with the door closed and the windows shut to no avail. It was, the White Wolf guessed, their way of projecting pleasure, of enhancing it, and perhaps some of their partners might have enjoyed it.</p><p> </p><p>The White Wolf certainly didn't. He thought it was too overboard. His throbbing cock disagreed.</p><p> </p><p>His palate felt full, warm, tense. He could taste the lingering lavender soap from Dandelion’s earlier bath. He could breathe him in. Sweat and alcohol and musk. Another loud moan erupted in the open. He went too low, too fast, craving to taste him even further. Dandelion’s back arched off the bed, his grip tugged at his hair, and almost immediately, he pulled him away.</p><p> </p><p>“God, fuck, can’t believe I’m already  –“</p><p> </p><p>“Pathetic,” mocked the White Wolf with a smug side-curled grin, eyes glancing down at Dandelion in a condescending manner. And he could see he didn’t like it. Oh, he didn’t like it one bit.</p><p> </p><p>“I know what you’re attempting to do,” mused the bard with a sudden hint of amusement. He popped himself on an elbow and loosened the grip on his hair to trace soft fingertips down the other's cheek. “And you’re failing at it, miserably.”</p><p> </p><p>Confusion seized him as he felt Dandelion follow the trail of his thumb until it landed on his bottom lip. He pulled him without force, and the White Wolf had himself follow willingly. When their lips were but an inch apart, he breathed words he could hear resonate in his head even long after.</p><p> </p><p>“You know what you’re doing to me, Little Wolf,” he sighed, short of breath, “And you’re doing it far too well. Tempting me, exciting me, seducing me. Do you even realize it yourself? Certainly not. Are you thinking of your Jaskier? Now, would you let your Jaskier take good care of you, then?”</p><p> </p><p>It wasn’t a question, wasn’t supposed to be, for as soon as it was delivered, Dandelion’s lips were on his, tasting him with sensuality and intent. It was different from their earlier exchanges, less uncontrollable, less impulsive. It was as if Dandelion was attempting to prove a point to himself, to the both of them, that there was no need to pretend anymore.</p><p> </p><p>Drunk or sober, they wanted this – they needed it.</p><p> </p><p>It wasn't about pretending anymore.</p><p> </p><p>Their bodies intermingled as if one. They were at war and at peace. They fought and they rejoiced. They tore away and they delivered. There was nothing holding them back from losing themselves to the second, to unclutter from their roles, to unburden themselves from their emotions, to physically <em>feel</em>.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, yes, just like that,” hummed the voice in his ear, “Keep your lovely bottom steady for me, love. Gods, you’re far too good to be true. I could never tire of the sight of you bending down in front of me.”</p><p> </p><p>Dandelion’s tone has taken an air of intimacy, a tone he had never heard him use before towards Geralt, nor at the brothel, towards Miracle. It was something exclusively meant for him, ridden of sarcasm, of pretense, of irony. It was sincere, honest, real, and it sent every part of him shivering.</p><p> </p><p>He had even momentarily forgotten what was happening until he tensed, fists clutching against the bedsheet as Dandelion pushed inside him. The burn at the pit of his stomach swirled, Dandelion’s moan hot against his ear, his half-clothed body warm against his back. He was reminded of Miracle’s ache, finally satiated, and he could shamelessly relate. He was desperate for it, all along, but how long? Since when? Since the brothel? Since before?</p><p> </p><p>Gods. He was trying, trying to concentrate, to remember, but Dandelion’s sultry moans and whiny whispers weren’t helping. His thrusts were steady, sensual, torturous. He was taking it slow, far too slow for the White Wolf’s taste.</p><p> </p><p>“Fuck, Dandelion, move it!”</p><p> </p><p>A chuckle broke out behind him.</p><p> </p><p>“So impatient, are we?” teased the other, “Big bad Wolf wants to be fucked so badly? Wants to be ruined for everyone else? Why, aren't you filthy.”</p><p> </p><p><em>Cocky asshole</em>, the White Wolf wanted to spout out loud but instead, all he managed to utter was a low, lungful grunt as Dandelion suddenly picked up the pace. His cock pulsed violently when his hair was carefully cupped into a ponytail and fiercely tugged. His mind went temporarily blank when he was rammed into so vigorously he lost sense of time and space. Then it came to him in the form of a whisper or a yell, he could hardly tell by then, Dandelion’s tender tone, teasing, taunting, thrilling.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, by the gods, you’re so good, love. You feel so wonderfully good. I could melt into you forever. Now, why don’t you come for me, hm? Come for me, Little Wolf. Show me how good I make you feel.”</p><p> </p><p>Those words weren’t supposed to send his body trembling, weren’t supposed to make him edge his release, but they did. The built-up pleasure accumulated inside him until he could no longer hold it back. With his head bent behind, lips parted, a loud, gutted moan escaped him into the open, loud enough to be heard through the walls, in the streets, but at that high, nothing else mattered any more.</p><p> </p><p>The White Wolf’s body half-sank into the mattress. Behind him, Dandelion was not quite done. Sweat dripping down from his body to glaze his, his moans echoing in the inn room and beyond the walls. There was not a chance they weren’t heard from across the corridor. Not after a series of <em>‘Just like that, Little Wolf’</em> and <em>‘Fuck, you’re so fucking good for me,’</em> he practically yelled as he was sent reaching the highest peak of his mind-blowing orgasm. </p><p> </p><p>All that which followed was blurred in his memory.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>**</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Across the corridor, Jaskier sat frozen on his bed. Beside him, Geralt was soundly asleep. They had drank plenty, ate plenty, and made sweet love plenty. Yet the moment their side of the room quietened the other side arose into mayhem. How could this be real life? How could this happen under his watch? He saw many a thing happening from a distance, but not this, never this.</p><p> </p><p>Good lord, what has he just let himself witness? Misery. Mischief. His afterglow was ruined. His night was ruined. His life was ruined. He was never going to be able to sleep again after this. Forever traumatized. </p><p> </p><p>Since when? Since when were those two involved? How? Why? What kind of miracle played its way into their foolish minds? Were they doing this out of spite? No, clearly not. Even <em>they</em> wouldn't sink that low.</p><p> </p><p>He turned his head towards Geralt. His loose white locks were covering his face while he was spread half naked under their joined blanket. He looked at peace, comfortable in his sleep. As sensitive as witcher ears tend to be, the afterglow seemed to work wonderfully on numbing all of their senses. Jaskier was unfathomably jealous.</p><p> </p><p>The bed creaking eventually ceased. Dandelion’s <em>god-forbid</em> disgraceful whore-worthy moans subdued, and Jaskier took a long breath – his first, it felt like, then tucked himself under the blanket to pray for the night to take him away.</p><p> </p><p>Then the second round started.</p><p> </p><p><em>Fuck it</em>. Revenge, it is. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. The Witch's Wrath</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The new chapter is here (with delay as I am struggling to write at the moment) but I hope you'll forgive me, and enjoy &lt;3</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sunshine caressed his features with concentrated warmth, waking Geralt up from the deepest sleep he had had in what felt like an eternity. Heavy eyelids fluttered open to catch sight of the window curtains floating gently to the caress of the wind. Outside, the villagers had begun going about their day.</p><p> </p><p>He stretched in utter laziness and patted the spot on the bed beside him. To his disappointment, he found it empty and cold. Jaskier must have gotten up a while ago, which was unusual, knowing how his bard delighted in a morning-after.</p><p> </p><p>He slipped back inside his worn-out outfit, fixed his armor on top and considered taking it to the blacksmith if it were not for the lack of coin in his pocket. He ran a swift hand across his unruly hair then headed out of the room. He stopped at the threshold, watching the door across part open and his eyes darted upwards to catch an identical golden pair.</p><p> </p><p>“Hm." His counterpart groaned, as if minutely contemplating stepping back inside and shutting the door close.</p><p> </p><p>“Rough night?” teased Geralt, innocently referring to the mess that was his hair and the heavy bags of clear exhaustion hanging under his eyes. Though he was quick to notice he looked more on the radiant side – if that word could ever describe him in any existing universe.</p><p> </p><p>The White Wolf winced and a dark frown traced his forehead out of clear offense. Confused yet uncaring, Geralt watched him step out of the room, shut the door behind him, and trudge downstairs.</p><p> </p><p>Something about him was clearly amiss but Geralt did not bother to question it – did not care, really. Instead, he chose to follow suit and head downstairs for breakfast.</p><p> </p><p>The inn’s tavern was quiet even though it was nearing mid-day. Most of the guests have had drunk themselves to unconsciousness the night before, which left only the innkeeper seated behind the counter, counting her scarce coin. She, too, nestled a drink with a strange mixture consisting of ingredients that had Geralt, regardless of the fair distance separating them, scrunch up his nose in pure disgust.</p><p> </p><p>Anything to cure a hangover, he guessed.</p><p> </p><p>He located Jaskier with delay – due to his abnormally quiet state – at the far corner of the tavern hunched over the table and glaring daggers at the lively man seated across from him. It was Dandelion. He was holding his head up higher than usual, the grin at the corner of his lips tugged further, and the air about him was obnoxiously prideful. One glance was all Geralt needed to tell he had just won whatever debate the two were amidst.</p><p> </p><p>“Cry me a river,” came his humorous laughter, “I, for one, slept like a baby reared against its mother’s breast. Perhaps you would have complained less if you had had half so good a pounding, you poor boneless bag of misfortunes. Ah, speak of the devil! There come our favourite witchers.”</p><p> </p><p>A disgusted groan erupted in the open – the White Wolf’s. He trudged over to the table and pulled out a chair with so much force it slightly cracked under his grip, then took a seat beside Jaskier.</p><p> </p><p>“What are you two on about?” said Geralt while approaching the only other empty chair present at the table landing him to Dandelion’s left. Jaskier’s eyes caught his with some sort of feeble hope. He, too, wore bags under his eyes and looked like he spent his night fighting a lost brawl.</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, nothing of much importance, really,” hummed Dandelion nonchalantly, then turned to flash his smile at the innkeeper who had just served him his tea, bread and cheese. “Thank you, darling. Wonderful day, isn’t it?”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know how ye do it, kid,” laughed the woman, “The entire village woke up hammered this morn while ye seem to be beaming with twice the energy. Spare this old lady yer secret?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ah! Glad you asked!” he began, straightening his posture so as to appear bigger. “I have just the thing for you. Have you a husband, by chance? Or a wife? The trick is –"</p><p> </p><p>Amidst his flaunting, Dandelion was cut short by not only one but <em>two</em> angry shoe tips nailing his leg bone under the table. He jumped in his seat and knocked his knees against its wooden underside, screeching in pain as a result. Across from him, Jaskier and the White Wolf sneered in victory.</p><p> </p><p>Now this, Geralt could clearly see was a joined attack on his minstrel friend, and as much as he did not relish in seeing him getting bullied, he had been around the man long enough he learned it was mostly a well-earned treatment.</p><p> </p><p>In other words, Dandelion did something yesterday night which irked both Jaskier and the White Wolf. Now, if only Geralt could pick on more hints so as to figure out <em>what</em> exactly it was.</p><p> </p><p>“What was that for?!” squealed the assaulted bard while clenching down at his leg to ease the pain.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s for keeping me up all night,” spat a terribly ill-tempered Jaskier, arms crossed over his wrinkled chemise.</p><p> </p><p>“For not keeping your mouth shut,” spat the White Wolf behind gritted teeth. “Now the whole fucking inn knows.”</p><p> </p><p>“Knows what?”</p><p> </p><p>All eyes travelled to fix Geralt with a sort of pathetic bewilderment, as if they could not believe he had just asked.</p><p> </p><p>The innkeeper came to his rescue shortly after, placing a cup of tea in front of him and laughing heartily to ease some of the tension settling at the table.</p><p> </p><p>“And here I thought my son was the only one who didn’t hear a thing. The young lad's deaf on the left ear, mind you.”</p><p> </p><p>Signs of impatience began creeping onto Geralt’s demeanor. His forehead wrinkled as he pressed his eyebrows in torment. He turned to Jaskier for aid and was met with a lungful sigh and a desperate shake of the head.</p><p> </p><p>“These two have done it.”</p><p> </p><p>To which Geralt dumbfoundedly replies, “Done what?”</p><p> </p><p>Now he was shot a glare. Geralt knew he shouldn’t have pressed further.</p><p> </p><p>“Now, now,” carried on Dandelion. Now that his leg pain had been soothed, he seemed to recuperate some of his earlier cheerfulness. “There’s no need to be so shy. We are all adults at this table. Well, Jaskier’s bratty attitude hardly counts but with so wrinkled a face hardly anyone could tell he is in fact nothing short of a whiny toddler.”</p><p> </p><p>Jaskier winced and parted his lips to start an argument.</p><p> </p><p>“We drunk-fucked,” interrupted the White Wolf.</p><p> </p><p>“More like <em>you</em> got drunk-fucked.”</p><p> </p><p>“Shut up, Jaskier.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, come now, why’d you two have to make it sound so crude?”, sighed Dandelion, “It’s called making tender love while lulled by the sweet intoxication of liquor.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, drunk-fucking,” insisted Jaskier.</p><p> </p><p>The lack of denial from the part of the involved sides dawned on Geralt with blatant realization. The tea he had sipped while in thought came spurting out onto the table followed by a fit of coughs he nearly choked from.</p><p> </p><p>“You two <em>what</em>?!”</p><p> </p><p>Another laugh erupted from the innkeeper who, all drinks served, had remained to witness the unfolding events. Though after Geralt had finally come to realize what he had slept through the night before, she foresaw the storm and decided to quietly retreat and tend to the rest of her customers who had began showing up gradually one after the other.</p><p> </p><p>The table fell still afterwards. Dandelion, who was now nibbling carelessly on a piece of cheese, turned to Jaskier with a quirked eyebrow. The latter shrugged.</p><p> </p><p>“He was asleep.”</p><p> </p><p>“Asleep?” snorted Dandelion, then turned his attention back to Geralt by his side, who was gawking at him with an expression of both confusion and anger. “Good lord, you slept right after sex? What are you? A hormonally imbalanced pubescent?”</p><p> </p><p>The White Wolf snorted in the back. Geralt’s glare flickered at him minutely to settle back on Dandelion.</p><p> </p><p>“Outside,” he stressed, “<em>Now</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>At midday with the sun hanging high up in the sky, the villagers had just begun trudging around to open their shops and start their day with great delay. Dandelion followed Geralt to the barn, for as much as he was about to have his ears lectured off, he still had a horse and a cub to feed.</p><p> </p><p>So, when Geralt screamed <em>“You out of your fucking mind?”</em> all while extracting Salmon out of Roach’s saddlebag to have her chomp on the sliced pork he bought off the innkeeper, it made Dandelion choke out a laugh. Who would take <em>this</em> man seriously?</p><p> </p><p>“This isn't funny, Dandelion,” hissed Geralt behind his glare. Salmon mewled in his hold and licked the remnants of the meat off his fingers. “What with the whole <em>it’s not made to last</em> bullshit? Or have you picked your cock over common sense?”</p><p> </p><p>“Rude! I do pick common sense – well, less than half of the time,” mumbled Dandelion, “But truly, Geralt, I wouldn’t worry about it. What the White Wolf and I had was purely physical, I highly doubt it would happen again.”</p><p> </p><p>“That what you keep telling yourself?”</p><p> </p><p>Dandelion held his stare almost immediately.</p><p> </p><p>“That I do. What do <em>you</em> tell yourself?”</p><p> </p><p>Geralt fell silent. He lowered his gaze to his lap where Salmon, satiated and comfortable, curled up and fell back asleep.</p><p> </p><p>“I thought as much,” muttered Dandelion triumphantly. He turned to brush Roach’s mane and watched her purr joyfully in response. </p><p> </p><p>The air inside the barn was thick and smelled of horses and hay. Outside, the village had come back alive. Perhaps too alive. There was a rise of screams that briefly concerned Dandelion before his attention flew back to his companion when he said:</p><p> </p><p>“I’m leaving with him.”</p><p> </p><p>Then Dandelion’s expression fell.</p><p> </p><p>A loud scream suddenly broke outside of the barn. Dandelion jumped under Roach’s frightened neigh. Salmon launched herself from Geralt’s lap to hiss at the source of clamor. Geralt cursed his lack of weaponry as he stood up and headed for the door.</p><p> </p><p>“Stay here.”</p><p> </p><p>“As if I would listen to a man who’s lost his last marble!”</p><p> </p><p>With that, Dandelion pushed past him to head out of the barn first. Geralt cursed under his breath and followed.</p><p> </p><p>Once out in the open, the event exposed itself to their view. A group of villagers was amassed in the middle of the street in a circle, all armed, as if in the middle of containing some sort of monstrosity from breaking out in the open. Dandelion squinted his eyes but could not make much of the encircled target. Jaskier and the White Wolf came joining them shortly after, equally clueless and concerned. </p><p> </p><p>“What have you done this time, Dandelion?” shouted Jaskier.</p><p> </p><p>“If you’re going to be throwing the blame on me at every given chance,” moaned the minstrel, arms crossed over his chest and frowning, “Then that tells us just as much about your unhealthy self-image, dear buttercup."</p><p> </p><p>Jaskier rolled his eyes. “Oh, no, my dear despicable other-self, I just recognize incompetence when I see it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Quiet, the both of you,” urged the White Wolf, turning to Geralt with a stern look. “I know what's going on. It must be the witch.”</p><p> </p><p>Geralt’s eyes narrowed. The White Wolf took that as a sign to expand on his explanation.</p><p> </p><p>“Not the one we’re looking for,” he quickly cleared up, “I talked to her yesterday. She doesn’t know a thing. Doesn’t even look the part.”</p><p> </p><p>All eyes returned to the scene before them. Someone began shouting <em>“Hold the witch”</em> while handing out a piece of rope and passing it on through the crowd. All around them, villagers stood still in astonishment, and as the word <em>witch</em> repeated itself in echo from one mouth to the other, soon screams of encouragement joined in to turn the whispers into a chanted line. <em>"Kill the witch! Kill the witch! Kill the witch!"</em></p><p> </p><p>“We must do something,” said a panicked Jaskier, “We can’t simply let them kill her!”</p><p> </p><p>“She won’t, she’s a witch, they don't die easy,” sighed the White Wolf in the back, “But I can’t stand aside watching this.”</p><p> </p><p>The White Wolf unsheathed his two swords and heaved one towards Geralt. The latter received it mid-air and the two marched inside the crowd.</p><p> </p><p>Their sight was anything but welcome and Geralt learned that sharing a drink or two with the village folk did not make one suddenly well-liked. The villagers did not even bother warning them or asking them to stay out of it, instead, they charged at them with an immediate blow.</p><p> </p><p>And yet, as if bound by an unspoken promise, not a soul was killed. The two witchers defended themselves, stunned their attackers, impaired them when needed, until the last few ran off to scatter in the distance, grabbing their breath and reconsidering their plan of attack. Geralt saw that as a singular chance to grab the witch and leave.</p><p> </p><p>“Keep them off me. I’ll get her.”</p><p> </p><p>The command was indisputable. The White Wolf focused his efforts on fending off the few of the angry villagers who until now stood by watching. Geralt worked to unknot the ropes that tied the witch to the wooden pole erect in the middle. The rope loosened eventually and the witch came down bloody and breathless.</p><p> </p><p>“You all right?”</p><p> </p><p>She didn’t speak. Her long locks cloaked her dark amber eyes as she coughed and heaved to grasp her breath. The smell of charcoal clinging to her wretched clothes and the blackened burnt bruises covering her dark skin made Geralt suddenly realise what the villagers were in the middle of doing to her.</p><p> </p><p>“Can you stand?”</p><p> </p><p>“Leave me."</p><p> </p><p>“You’re not safe –”</p><p> </p><p>“I said LEAVE ME!”</p><p> </p><p>Her unforeseen wrath unleashed upon the circumference in a matter of seconds. Geralt was knocked a couple of steps backwards just in time to cast <em>Quen</em>, creating a magical shield to fend off the power of her blow. Behind him, the White Wolf, stuck amidst the mass of furious villagers, followed suit while the storming wave hit the crowd without an ounce of pity, sending every soul flying in the air like a tree leaf struck by merciless wind.</p><p> </p><p>Screams of horror broke out. The villagers began pushing and pulling among each other to escape the witch’s fury. The group of men who had sought to burn her alive fell lifeless on the ground, and the few survivors screeched at the intense pain that seized their limbs in the outcome. In front of Geralt the witch lifted herself up, hovering slightly above the ground and in the air. A being that was pendent between the two realms. Neither a monster nor human. Another broken witch whom he would have taken pity on were she not mustering her strength to wipe the village entire. </p><p> </p><p>“Stop!” shouted the White Wolf behind him. “What the hell are you doing? You're going to kill everyone!"</p><p> </p><p>The witcher's laugh resonated in the open.</p><p> </p><p>“Liars,” she whispered to herself, words Geralt could barely hear with the strength of the wind blowing against his ears, “All of them. Liars, killers, and murderers. Monsters calling me a monster. When all I’ve done was heal them, care for them, nurse them to health. They don’t deserve my help. They don’t deserve my mercy. All they deserve is my wrath.”</p><p> </p><p>The White Wolf seemed eager to argue her insane reasoning but at the sight of her hands lifting up for what seemed to be the delivery of a second blow, both witchers knew there was no chance of ending this on a peaceful note. He seized Geralt by the arm and hauled him out of the way.</p><p> </p><p>“You need to get out of here. <em>Now</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“And you?” wondered Geralt, identifying the answer to his question before it surfaced. “Try being a hero. You’ll die.”</p><p> </p><p>“And if you don’t move now, <em>they</em> will.”</p><p> </p><p>Geralt needn’t be told more. The White Wolf was referring to the bards, of what could become of their safety if this situation distorted into a non-reversible madness engulfing all living things in its vicinity. They didn't know what the witch was capable of and Geralt wasn't willing to stand back and find out. He spared his other self one last glance then turned to charge through the blasting wind, making way across to the safety of the barn where Dandelion and Jaskier had taken shelter. He returned to an exchange of horrified cries alternating between each one of them while they came around to surround him.</p><p> </p><p>"By the gods, what is happening out there?" cried Dandelion.</p><p> </p><p>"No time to explain," said Geralt. He walked past a confused Jaskier to fasten the saddle on Roach, "The two of you need to get out of there. Head west until you run into a lake. Roach knows where to take you from there."</p><p> </p><p>"What do you mean the <em>two</em> of us?" groaned Jaskier in clear displeasure, rushing to hinder Geralt's movement by gripping his forearm, "What about the two of <em>you</em>?"</p><p> </p><p>"We can't leave her to wipe out the entire village," argued Geralt with a piercing stare. The warmth of Jaskier's touch succeeded on making him wish he could surrender, right then and there, but he tore his arm away gently, let his eyes drift away from the distracting sight. "Besides, she <em>is</em> the witch we're looking for."</p><p> </p><p>"She is?" yelled Dandelion in a high-pitched tone of astonishment. Geralt met his eyes momentarily, then let his stare return to where it always wanted to remain: witnessing the sight of Jaskier.</p><p> </p><p>"How do you know she is the one we're looking for?" urged Jaskier.</p><p> </p><p>"Every witch who unleashes chaos has a reason for doing so," said Geralt, "Your world's witch was faced by a triggering event, something that broke her, made her embrace the darkness. In <em>our</em> world, <em>this</em> is the triggering event. This is when it all happens." </p><p> </p><p>"But Geralt, she doesn't even look the part!" came Jaskier's protest, this time his tone rising higher, his patience drawing thin, his eyes watering in the process, "Are you suggesting she changed her entire appearance for this? That is highly unlikely for -"</p><p> </p><p>"For gods' sake, Jaskier, this is the witch you're looking for!" came the bold interruption. The <em>you</em> instead of <em>we</em> slipped Geralt's mouth before he could think twice. Now it was in the open, bearing a load of unspoken implications that divided them from one another, that <em>reminded</em> them of the division.</p><p> </p><p>That they were not from the same universe. That they were never supposed to be.</p><p> </p><p>As if he had read through the rising tension between them, Dandelion stepped in to inelegantly climb on Roach. He misstepped on the stirrup and half-fell, half-hung on Roach's mane to steady himself. Roach neighed in annoyance. Salmon peered confusedly out of the saddle bag, and when Dandelion apologized to them both, the tension in the air lost most of its strain.</p><p> </p><p>"You need to go," came Geralt's reminder, "White Wolf and I will meet you there."</p><p> </p><p>Outside, the violent wind turned into a windstorm, ripping apart all that met its circumference. The barn's walls shook heavily under the assault, sending a shudder down their spines. Any time now, the roof would tear open over their heads. Any time now, safety would be of the past. Geralt needed to end this now.</p><p> </p><p>"<em>Go</em>!"</p><p> </p><p>And Jaskier fell terribly still. His eyes reflected no anger, no bitterness, no defiance - just pain. Heart-wrenching, tear-jerking, aching pain.</p><p> </p><p>"As much as I'd hate to interrupt your romantic quarrel," said Dandelion quietly, "I, for one, would love to step out of this town with as many limbs as I have counted while stepping in. Oh, and buttercup, dear, you're riding in the back, <em>obviously</em>."</p><p> </p><p>Jaskier did not speak a word further, and perhaps that was the mistake Geralt had made, he had expected him to say something, anything, to mark these last moments that <em>could</em> be their very last. Instead, Jaskier turned his back on him, masking his hurt and pain and anger, and walked away without a word. He settled in behind Dandelion and refused to meet his eyes after that.</p><p> </p><p>"Where shall we meet you, dear friend?" asked Dandelion, Roach's reins in his hands, ready at his call.</p><p> </p><p>“Continue west. Roach knows where to take you. If we are not after you within the next three days, don't come back here looking for us.”</p><p> </p><p>Dandelion didn't have the time to question that last statement, since right after he spoke it, Geralt patted Roach on the back to send her into full speed barging out of the barn's gates. He watched as the words were caught into Dandelion's throat, turning into a series of curses he heard fade into the distance until there was nothing left but the sight of the trees swallowing them in the horizon.</p><p> </p><p>Geralt knew he made the right call.</p><p> </p><p>Whatever happens to them now, Yennefer will be there to take care of the rest.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm looking forward to the next chapter because... Yennefer!! I've wanted to write her since I first started this fanfic and never got there. Finally, next chapter, we will get to see my favorite badass witch adding up to the Dandelion and Jaskier mess of a duo. If you thought these two were already bitchy, well, remember that Yen brings out the best in them.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. The One I Passionately Despise</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>God, it's been so long since I've last updated. I had hit a bit of a brick wall in the recent time (also I generally have so much going on in my life). But I'm back, and I'm delivering you another chapter! </p><p>To those who have been waiting for this, thank you for /still/ being on the ride! I have a few more chapters up my sleeve but the story is slowly nearing its end. </p><p>Enjoy it while it lasts &lt;3</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>“Was this it? Your fantastic plan.”</p><p> </p><p>“Gods, don’t start.”</p><p> </p><p>Jaskier paced back and forth with nimble, restless feet. His arms were crossed over his chest, head snapping to his counterpart who was currently pouting for having landed them in – of all the fantastic places in the whole wide world – a <em>second-rate</em> cell.</p><p> </p><p>It was second-rate, Jaskier insists, for he has been captured enough in his lifetime and he could single-handedly tell their current captors lacked both in resources <em>and</em> brains for having locked two bards together, unbound, and ungagged.</p><p> </p><p>A <em>grand</em> mistake.</p><p> </p><p>“By all means, Dandelion, <em>do</em> tell me. I am intrigued,” he scoffed, arms raising on each side, “Was <em>this</em> it? Your genius idea of <em>camping for a night</em> with nothing but breadsticks and Roach’s half-eaten apple? Surely that wasn’t enough for you, <em>no</em>. You <em>had</em> to insist on laying our arses bare and setting camp right in front of a bandit lair’s back door. Truly, I am speechless. I bow my head, right now, to you, oh your genius majesty.”</p><p> </p><p>And boiling with anger and bitterness, Jaskier gracefully, elegantly brought a hand to his chest and physically bowed in front of Dandelion, who, crouched with his back to the cold, rugged wall, made a deep sound of displeasure, a whimper of sort, accompanied by a roll of his eyes. The gesture seized Jaskier with the urge to slap him so hard those eyes would get stuck permanently upwards.</p><p> </p><p>Now, wasn’t that a cheerful thought?</p><p> </p><p>“Quit your bickering, buttercup. I am in a foul mood as it is.” he snarled at last. <em>Finally</em>, Jaskier thought, <em>some drama to clear the foul air!</em></p><p> </p><p>“<em>My</em> bickering?” he echoed, feigning a long gasp, “Is it <em>my</em> bickering that got us where we are now? Miles away from our destination, knowing <em>goose egg</em> about our captors. Gods, we have <em>nothing</em> to offer, and in your case, no wits to bargain. We are completely, and utterly doomed. But yes, surely, it is <em>my</em> bickering that is to blame!”</p><p> </p><p>A short silence followed. Dandelion raised his head.</p><p> </p><p>“We can talk to them.”</p><p> </p><p>“They will slaughter us.”</p><p> </p><p>“We can sing.”</p><p> </p><p>“They took our lutes.”</p><p> </p><p>“We can… charm them?”</p><p> </p><p>“With your face? I’d rather die with pride.”</p><p> </p><p>Dandelion’s mouth dropped, like a snake ready to deliver his poisonous bite, but closed it. It was Jaskier’s turn to roll his eyes now, because the other has been doing this for the past hour or so, lurking in his corner, beating himself down. And as pleasing to the eye as the sight was, because truly he was a monumental idiot and deserved every bit of self-deprecation, Jaskier grew incessantly bored of his behavior.</p><p> </p><p>“Get on your feet.”</p><p> </p><p>The sentence came out as a command, and Dandelion tensed, raising a frown at him.</p><p> </p><p>“Come now. Don’t make me repeat myself. <em>On your feet</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Reluctantly, Dandelion adhered and pushed himself up, dragging his weight to lean back against the wall. His hair was untamed, his posture crooked, his clothes wrinkled and dirty. Jaskier was starting to feel slightly sorry for him. <em>Slightly</em>.</p><p> </p><p>“Hand over your doublet,” he said, and Dandelion squinted his eyes at him, eyebrows heavily furrowed.</p><p> </p><p>“If this is your cheap attempt at getting me naked –"</p><p> </p><p>“Do you want to get out of here or not?”</p><p> </p><p>Dandelion hesitated, then shrugged the doublet off his shoulders, revealing a thin linen white shirt underneath that had turned brown with dirt. He handed the doublet over.</p><p> </p><p>Jaskier ripped it out of his hold and put it over his blue blouse, then extended his hand again.</p><p> </p><p>“Now, your hat.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then my blouse and my breeches and why not my undergarments, too, while at it?” scoffed Dandelion, “If you were not me, I would’ve been flattered, buttercup, truly, but there is, unfortunately, nothing flattering about being stripped naked by my other universe self. Pitiful, if anything. Though, I understand that my being so utterly irresistible does –"</p><p> </p><p>Interrupted mid-sentence, Jaskier came to snatch the hat right off his head, dusted it off, and placed it atop his. It was as wrinkled and dusty as the rest of his clothes and Jaskier could tell it had seen better days.</p><p> </p><p>“Mind off the gutter, despicable Dandelion,” said Jaskier with a proud air, then, placing his hands over his waist, stroke a pose Dandelion could recognize as a <em>poor</em> version of his own. “We are going to play a game called the best of the two worlds. On one hand, we have <em>your</em> acclaimed fame, which we both know has been nothing but an inflation of a rather sad reality you call your voice, and on the other, <em>my</em> outstanding wits, looks, and humour, which brings man, woman, and all else in between to succumb to my irresistible charms. Put these two together –"</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Excuse</em> <em>me</em>?” shouted Dandelion, hands now on his hips, feeling somewhat naked without his hat and doublet. “First of all, that was <em>my</em> plan. I’m the one who suggested to charm our way out of here. Second, you are in under no circumstances going to pretend to be <em>me</em> while <em>I</em> am standing <em>right</em> here, already being my best self!”</p><p> </p><p>Jaskier’s eyebrow quirked at the last line. With crossed arms, he stared Dandelion up and down.</p><p> </p><p>“You call <em>that</em> your best self?” he snarled, “Melitele’s soggy tits would attract a bigger crowd.”</p><p> </p><p>Dandelion’s groan erupted straight out of his guts, and the sound of it brightened Jaskier’s face. <em>There he is, at last.</em></p><p> </p><p>“You’re one to talk, standing there looking like you’ve overslept fashion for the past century. That blouse with those breeches? The bandits would beg for death over having to look you over twice – hold on, why are you grinning? You’re not supposed to be grinning while I’m verbally assaulting you!”</p><p> </p><p>Jaskier dropped his smile as quick as it arose. He was pleased to have him back, surely, but he had a reputation to uphold, and sneering back at him was <em>all</em> of it.</p><p> </p><p>“My apologies, I am unfortunately not versed in the language of mediocre,” said Jaskier, careless, “Moreover, men without doublets should refer to those with doublets in a tone of respect.”</p><p> </p><p>“You are <em>literally</em> wearing <em>my</em> doublet!”</p><p> </p><p>“Your loss, peasant. Now, step aside, and watch the professionals at work.”</p><p> </p><p>Under Dandelion’s threatening glare, Jaskier turned his back to him and marched to the cell door. He peeked beyond the set of rusty metal bars that gave into a humid, candle-lit hallway, searching for signs of a patrolling guard.</p><p> </p><p>There were three others cells surrounding theirs. Two were empty, and the one across was inhabited by some type of monstrosity that frightened whomever walked past – reason why they were mostly left to their own device regardless of how loud they chattered. So terrible said monstrosity must be, that Jaskier heard a group of guards decide the patrolling agent of the night shift around a stressful game of Gwent.</p><p> </p><p>Whomever lost, Jaskier was certain was going to be easily swayed by his charms.</p><p> </p><p>A clearing of the throat. The guard was seated at the other extremity of the corridor, nose deep into a book. Another, louder, clearing of the throat. The guard’s eyebrow quirked, and he lifted up a tired stare. Jaskier took his chance.</p><p> </p><p>“Excuse me, gentle sir! May I have a word?” he softly, gently purred. Behind him, Dandelion made a gagging sound.</p><p> </p><p>“What d’you want?” His voice was rough, impatient. He was clearly in a foul mood. Jaskier would be, too, if he lost five consecutive games in a row. His was the temperament of a sore loser. Jaskier could work with that.</p><p> </p><p>“I would like to brighten your day with a proposal.”</p><p> </p><p>“Not interested,” cut the other short. “Sit back and shut up.”</p><p> </p><p>“That – I’m afraid there is a misunderstanding!” Jaskier insisted, ignoring Dandelion’s laughing fit behind his back. “My being here is a mistake. You see, I am of noble descent. Surely, one would find themselves extraordinarily rewarded if word were to get out that they have saved none other than Julian Alfred Pankratz, the Viscount of Lettenhove, from the hands of a group of dangerous wild bandits.”</p><p> </p><p>“Are you calling us savages?” snarled the other, nose flaring, legs shooting his body upwards. <em>Well</em>, Jaskier thought, <em>at least I got his attention.</em></p><p> </p><p>“Far from it, my kind sir!” mouthed Jaskier in the softest manner, cheek pulling off of the metal bar. “What you are, or will be, is a savior! A celebrated knight! Now wouldn’t it be a life worth living, surrounded by abundant wealth and lovely women – or men, whichever you prefer.”</p><p> </p><p>“Both,” he corrected. Jaskier’s grin sparked. He saw a chance, right then and there, an opening that might be his one way out.</p><p> </p><p>“Have you heard of Dandelion?”</p><p> </p><p>“The infamous minstrel who cowards behind that frightening witcher?” The guard was now inching closer towards their cell. “What about him?”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Infamous</em>?!” cried Dandelion inside the cell, but Jaskier’s voice covered his immediately.</p><p> </p><p>“Why, yes! You are a well-cultured man, aren’t you?” he said, flashing his widest smile. He moved a hand to cling to the metal bar at his chest level, the other traveling up to the one above his head, assuming, quite unknowingly, a courting stance. “You see, gentle sir, I happen to have earned quite an audience out there while accompanying the oh-so frightening witcher. Surely, my singing is decayed and my clothing style is indecent, but none of it matters when your audience is so dumb-founded by your fantastic tales that they would practically shower you with coin for squeaking the quarter of a note. It’s all half connections, half charms, my dear, you understand, don’t you?”</p><p> </p><p>The <em>dear</em> left his mouth with a lingering undertone that flicked a hint of interest in the other’s eyes. Jaskier hadn’t thought of the possibility of <em>whoring</em> himself out of captivity but now was far too late to reconsider an alternative. The guard was already resting a large sweaty hand on the one he had curled near his chest and <em>oh gods, nevermind, this is a terrible idea.</em></p><p> </p><p>“So,” he cleared his throat nervously, “Am I piquing your interest with the promise of wealth and fame?”</p><p> </p><p>“And men and women,” came the addition, spoken with a disgustingly large grin.</p><p> </p><p>Dandelion was no longer commenting inside the cell. Jaskier was almost certain he had turned his back to him and left him to his own demise. Talk about self-sacrifice.</p><p> </p><p>And as Geralt so eloquently puts it:</p><p> </p><p><em>Fuck</em>.</p><p> </p><p>A trickle of sweat fell down his temple, and Jaskier, smiling forcefully still, attempted to retrieve his hand from under the clasp of the other – to no avail. Then a voice broke the silence and everyone startled, the guard included.</p><p> </p><p>“For gods’ sake, Dandelion, do you flirt with everything that moves?”</p><p> </p><p>Jaskier’s eyes flashed open, his head turned to meet Dandelion’s who was staring back at him with just as much shock. The voice was extremely familiar, and it was coming from the cell across, currently engulfed in darkness.</p><p> </p><p>“Shit, she’s awake –" snapped the guard, and finally, <em>finally</em>, removed his grip from over Jaskier’s to slither away and out of sight.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Thank you, oh gods, for blessing me with a second chance.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Wait, you are not Dandelion."</p><p> </p><p>Two pale fists came seizing the door’s metal bars, and under the dim lighting of the singular candle swaying with the vaguest motion of the wind, a pair of amethyst irises sparkled fiercely back at him. Followed by the dark raven curls, and the pale complexion, and the slender figure.</p><p> </p><p>Jaskier felt his breath catch in his throat, torn between the sight of the bewitching beauty that was addressing him, and the uncomfortable, impending realization that this person reminded him of none other than –</p><p> </p><p>“Yennefer?!” shouted Dandelion, whose yell came impairing Jaskier’s ear. He was standing right over his shoulder. “What are you doing here?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, there you are,” Yennefer’s frown soothened. “What are <em>you</em> doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be travelling with Geralt? Did something happen?"</p><p> </p><p>“It’s –" Dandelion sighed, “A long story. Geralt is fine, hopefully, and so is the White Wolf.” </p><p> </p><p>“Who's the White Wolf?”</p><p> </p><p>“Geralt, who else?”</p><p> </p><p>An awkward pause.</p><p> </p><p>“Have you been intoxicating yourself again?”</p><p> </p><p>“No, no! You don’t understand. There <em>are</em> two Geralts now!"</p><p> </p><p>Yennefer laughed at him – <em>she laughed!</em></p><p> </p><p>Jaskier’s eyes went back and forth between the two, mouth hanging open. His lips parted and closed, and whenever he eyed the lady in the cell across from theirs all his brain shouted back at him was: <em>this can’t be Yennefer!</em></p><p> </p><p>Clearly, even in their world, Yennefer was the highest mixture of delightful and deadly, that part was irrefutable, but she would never laugh at his jokes like this, scorn at them, sure, mock them, most likely, but <em>never</em> laugh at them.</p><p> </p><p>Dandelion nudged his side with impatience.</p><p> </p><p>“Help me out here, buttercup!”</p><p> </p><p>“Buttercup?” echoed Yennefer, “That must be <em>you</em>. Quite uncommon for someone with a pretty face to assume the role of Dandelion of all people. You have my respect.”</p><p> </p><p>Dandelion scoffed. “Funny, Yen. Very funny.”</p><p> </p><p>Near him, Jaskier went pale.</p><p> </p><p>Did Yennefer of Vengerberg just call his face <em>pretty</em>?</p><p> </p><p>This was wrong. This was <em>every</em> level of wrong. This was not supposed to even <em>be</em> a possibility, not in this world, not in another. A reality where Yennefer does not despise him? Where she does not call him names at any given chance? Where she calls his face pretty? Where she laughs at his jokes? Jaskier was positive he was still sprawled on the floor of the last inn, drunk to his wits, dreaming up the entirety of this – whatever <em>this</em> is.</p><p> </p><p>At least that would have been a far more believable conclusion.</p><p> </p><p>“Cat’s got your friend’s tongue?”</p><p> </p><p>“He’s not my friend. And give him a second. The poor thing’s slow-minded.”</p><p> </p><p>Jaskier turned to him with a glare.</p><p> </p><p>“We need to talk.”</p><p> </p><p>“Now?”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Now</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“Everything all right over there?”</p><p> </p><p>“Apologies, Yen,” said Dandelion, “Someone’s having an identity crisis over here. Give us a moment. We will be right back with y-“</p><p> </p><p>Jaskier had to – he simply <em>had</em> to cut the courtesy short. He could not allow this, not even another version of himself in a gods know what kind of universe to <em>apologize</em> to Yennefer. There were unspoken rules even interdimensional traveling had to respect. So Jaskier dragged Dandelion to the side and went into an anxious rant of whispers.</p><p> </p><p>“What is going on here? Are you <em>friends</em> with her?”</p><p> </p><p>He hissed out the word <em>friends</em>.</p><p> </p><p>“With Yennefer?” Dandelion stopped, pondered. “Well, we haven’t spoken as much as I’d like to but, sure, I would consider us friends.”</p><p> </p><p>Jaskier felt physically illtowards everything that sentence stood for.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Why</em>?” Jaskier lamented, “Why, after what she’s done to us? Stripping us naked and nearly <em>murdering</em> us for gods know what twisted wish she was after!”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh! You must be referring to that Djinn business.” Dandelion shrugged, unbothered. “We might have gotten off on the wrong foot, but that was then and this is now. All’s forgotten. She is a good influence on both myself and Geralt. I believe she’s a changed person. <em>Powerfully</em> so.”</p><p> </p><p>And there was a weak intensity in his vocal stressing of <em>powerfully</em>. Jaskier wanted him to choke on his spit.</p><p> </p><p>“Why? How is <em>your</em> Yen like?”</p><p> </p><p>“First of all,” Jaskier gasped, “Don’t ever put that witch’s name and myself in the same sentence unless you’re looking to lose a tooth or two. Second, in <em>my</em> universe, Yennefer of Vengerberg would slit my throat on a heartbeat if she had the chance. Changed person, my arse. She’s a bitch. <em>Powerfully</em> so.”</p><p> </p><p>The mocking tone was clear, and Jaskier loved the taste of it as it rolled out of his lips. It made it all feel <em>right</em> again.</p><p> </p><p>“Wait, really?”</p><p> </p><p>Dandelion’s interest arose, and as much as Jaskier relished in bad-talking Yennefer at any given chance, the witch in question was growing impatience and began knocking on the metal bar of her cell door to regain their attention.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you two done yet? I’d hate to cut your gossiping short but there’s work to be done if you want to get out of here.”</p><p> </p><p>Both bards snapped their heads to her direction, eyes wide, ears listening.</p><p> </p><p>“You have a plan?” asked Dandelion.</p><p> </p><p>“You could call it that.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why don’t you just burn your way out of here, as you so <em>excellently </em>do?”</p><p> </p><p>Jaskier’s tone was dripping with sarcasm. Yennefer did not seem to pick up on it. She sighed, instead, and stretched her arms out of the door to reveal the set of shackles fastened to her wrists. There were bruises underneath. She must have been here for a while.</p><p> </p><p>“Unfortunately, these things absorb every bit of my magic. I’m too drained to even remain awake, let alone blow a hole across a stone wall.”</p><p> </p><p>“That looks -"</p><p> </p><p>"Painful?" she finished, "It is, quite."</p><p> </p><p>Jaskier fell silent, half-dwelling in guilt.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you … hurting?”</p><p> </p><p>“I am fine. I can handle it, for the moment.” She smiled, her demeanor ever so elegant and collected. “I take it you two have lost Geralt somewhere out there and that there is not a chance he would be stumbling upon us for an accidental rescue mission?”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Geralts</em>,” corrected Jaskier hurriedly, “There are two of them. Just like there are, and gods forgive me for admitting this, two of <em>us</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Jaskier pointed at himself and Dandelion. Yennefer’s eyes widened briefly with a hint of surprise, then she burst out into soft laughter.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, aren’t you funny?” she said, her lipstick gleaming under the light of her spreading grin. “I am beginning to like your not-friend here, Dandelion.”</p><p> </p><p>“He’s like a puppy, isn’t he?”</p><p> </p><p>“For fuck’s sake, you two –"</p><p> </p><p>Then a loud bang came from upstairs, imitating the loud clash of a door. Yennefer’s amusement fell sharply still, her expression returning to its serious state, gaze cold, earnest.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s time,” she said, “If the two of you want out of here, it’s now or never.”</p><p> </p><p>“What’s happening?”</p><p> </p><p>“The guard from earlier will return to my cell. Each night, they recast the spell on my shackles to maintain the highest ability of absorption. If I can get a distraction, even for the spark of a moment before the shackles are fully recharged, I might recover enough magic to turn him into dust. And, get us out of here.”</p><p> </p><p>“Fantastic plan!”</p><p> </p><p>“Wait, hold on, one second –" Jaskier interrupted, arms raising in the air in a freezing motion. “Does this involve what I think it involves?”</p><p> </p><p>Yennefer’s lips curved into the sharpest smirk.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>No</em>. No, no, no, I am not – I am <em>not</em> going to <em>flirt</em> with some halfwit with fountains for hands to buy you some time!”</p><p> </p><p>“You’ve done a fine job of it so far, darling.”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t call me that!” Gods, he was <em>done</em>, <em>done</em> with it all. “Just – ugh, fucking hell. Give me a moment.”</p><p> </p><p>He turned his back to the two and rubbed at the soothing spot between his eyebrows. He could feel his whole body's tension accumulated there.</p><p> </p><p>First an intense version of Geralt that loves him passionately, then a witless version of himself that nags at him at every given chance, and now a <em>nice </em>and <em>friendly</em> version of Yennefer who calls him <em>darling</em>?</p><p> </p><p>He dragged in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He straightened his back, fixed the hat above his head, flattened the wrinkles on his doublet, then turned around.</p><p> </p><p>“Fine, I'll do it. But I swear, if I die, I am dragging both of you to hell with me.”</p><p> </p><p>To which Yennefer responded:</p><p> </p><p>“I would open the door for you myself, dear.”</p><p> </p><p>And in there, somewhere, in the drop of her tone and the quirk of her eyebrow, Jaskier found the Yennefer he so loved and adored.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Who's Stubborn?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>I haven't posted in a while and I don't have much of a reason for it except that I have been holding back on this chapter for... months. </p><p>For those who've read so far and who are enjoying the current ships, I have to warn you that I've given in to my inner urge to try out two more ship possibilities that I've had my eyes on since I've started this fic. Surprise, surprise, it might not be everyone's cup of tea, but do give it a try. (The main ships will remain the strictly romantic ones, though)</p><p>Have some Geralt x White Wolf for starters.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>“Fire will last a few hours. Need more to eat?”</p><p>“I’m fine.”</p><p>“A hand with undressing?”</p><p>“I said I’m <em>fine</em>.”</p><p>“Stubborn is what you are. Fine? Far from it. Show me your wound.”</p><p>Geralt stood up from his seat behind the campfire to approach the White Wolf. He was half-seated, half-laid against a pile of hay they had stolen from the village’s barn before their flight, now stacked carefully behind the small of his back, supporting his weight from falling completely on the bare ground. They were miles away from any sign of life, and with a raging witch at their tail, it was for the best.</p><p>The White Wolf’s gutted side, on the other hand, was far from it.</p><p>Geralt’s knee met the dusty ground and he watched his counterpart wince at the unwelcomed proximity. Despite the biting cold, he had discarded his armor to unburden the wounded area. Blood had soaked his black tunic, seeping into the fabric of the breeches underneath. The healing process was far too slow, which was unsurprising considering the witch’s destructive powers. The White Wolf might have said nothing about it, but Geralt knew, better than anyone, what it was like for him to be in pain.</p><p>“Let me see.”</p><p>“Leave it.”</p><p>“I can help.”</p><p>“I know what you can and can’t do. And in this case, you can’t do shit. So <em>leave it</em>.”</p><p>Geralt hummed passively and, ignoring the other’s protest, reached over to tug at the side of his tunic. In the process of lifting it, the White Wolf’s grip came seizing his forearm with bursting anger.</p><p>“Didn't you listen?” he muttered behind gritted teeth, “I said<em> fuck off</em>.”</p><p>The piercing amber hues reflected an irreversible threat. The final warning before an outbreak. There was tension on his shoulders and sharpness on his fingernails. Like a hurt wolf, too afraid of holding his weakness bare, his jaw was clenched and he looked ready to bite.</p><p>Geralt recognized most of those signs as his own, or rather his younger self’s. The White Wolf was years too early, too inexperienced to understand the importance of exposed vulnerability. To understand that to rely on another did not reflect one’s failure, but one’s growth. And perhaps he might not be able to tell his younger self that now, but this stubborn wolf could use the reminder.</p><p>“It’ll only hurt more if you struggle.”</p><p>The White Wolf’s grip grew weary under Geralt’s strength. He gave up soon enough and let the tunic get pulled up to uncover the wound. Blood gushed out to taint his abdominal region and sink into his breeches. The entire thing was an unfathomable mess.</p><p>“Fine, my arse,” scoffed Geralt, “You’re bleeding.”</p><p>The White Wolf gritted his teeth in response.</p><p>“How bad?”</p><p>“<em>Very</em>.”</p><p>Geralt stood back on his feet and began uncluttering his armor as well. The White Wolf’s stare pierced him intensely, then confusedly when his white tunic came slipping off along.</p><p>“What are you doing?”</p><p>Geralt didn’t bother explaining. He ripped his tunic in half and returned to the White Wolf’s side to press the cloth against his wound – a hopeless attempt to stop the bleeding since it only came gushing out faster.</p><p>“<em>Fuck –</em>“</p><p>“Hold it.”</p><p>With a painful grunt, the White Wolf’s hand came gripping his in a struggle, when <em>something</em> sparked through Geralt’s skin. It was strange, brief, akin to a jolt of a sort. They both jerked back their hands at once.</p><p>“What the hell was that?”</p><p>“Wasn’t me.” Geralt dragged curious fingers over his own hand, eyebrows furrowed. “Think it might have to do with the different universes jargon. Show me your hand.”</p><p>"Should I remind you I’m in pain?”</p><p>“Thought you said you were fine.”</p><p>“Thought you would shut up and get it patched up, not start touching me all over.”</p><p>Geralt scoffed and returned to the treating of the wound. The bleeding was successfully hindered and he gestured for the White Wolf to move.</p><p>“What now?”</p><p>“Shirt off.”</p><p>“For fuck’s sake.”</p><p>“Can’t patch you up like this,” said Geralt, “And that nasty attitude of yours isn’t helping. You either suck it up and remove your shirt or I’ll do it myself.”</p><p>Under a series of muttered curses, the White Wolf bent forward and struggled out of his tunic. Geralt’s hand came tugging the rest of it off him.</p><p>“Two armorless witchers with a witch at their tail,” scoffed the White Wolf, “What could possibly go wrong?”</p><p>Geralt left the blood-drenched tunic by the fire to dry and returned with a clean fabric to begin dressing the wound.</p><p>“Less whining, more healing. We’re safe out here.”</p><p>“We’re vulnerable to every threat.”</p><p>“<em>You’re</em> vulnerable. And too prideful to contain the thought of someone else protecting you. Not even when that someone else is <em>you</em> – Hands up.”</p><p>The White Wolf lifted his arms despite his clear antagonism. Geralt swirled the piece of fabric around his waist and over his shoulder for support. In the process, fingertips grazed his chest skin by accident – or rather by accidental design – and the jolting sensation kicked in once more. It was hardly painful, like a slight pinch that sent the hair on his skin standing.</p><p>“Fucking hell,” cursed the White Wolf, pushing himself away to rub the area over his collarbone. “I told you to fuck off. Don’t you listen?”</p><p>“Curious,” he said, “Aren’t <em>you</em>?”</p><p>“Forgive me if I’m busy bleeding my guts out here. No, I’m not <em>curious</em>.”</p><p>Geralt shrugged in resignation and moved to face the campfire. They shared a comfortable silence, disrupted only by the creaking of the firewood and the heavy breathing of his companion. The White Wolf seemed to doze off after a while, which was unsurprising, considering the amount of blood he had lost.</p><p>“Think they’re still alive?” Geralt brought up eventually.</p><p>“Whining about your boyfriend?” said the White Wolf. “Of course, they’re alive. They’re bards. They don’t die. They annoy you to death. That’s what they do.”</p><p>Geralt let out a loud exhale.</p><p>“Haven’t heard from Yennefer yet and it’s been hours. I don’t like to worry but –“</p><p>“Then don’t start. It’s a waste of breath. They’re out there, humping whores or each other for all I care. They’re <em>fine</em>.”</p><p>“And here you are, whining over the tingling of your skin.”</p><p>He could hear him seep in a harsh breath.</p><p>“You’re stubborn, I’ll give you that. Add it to the list of things I’m starting to hate about myself.”</p><p>“You didn’t hate it.”</p><p>A quirk of an eyebrow. “What do you know?”</p><p>“Don’t forget I’m a witcher, too. Even better, I’m <em>you</em>.”</p><p>“So you believe you know me better than myself just because you’re <em>me</em>?”</p><p>“I know when you reek of desperation.” Geralt’s head turned slowly towards him, eyes stern, lips curved into a smirk. “I know you felt it straight down to your cock when my fingers grazed your neck. You can hide from <em>them</em>. <em>Me</em>, I know you inside out.”</p><p>The White Wolf’s eyes flared with anger but it was fleet and it disappeared shortly after.</p><p>“You sound like you want to fuck yourself if you ask me.” His voice cracked briefly despite the mocking tone, his eyes wandering elsewhere. “Think twice before you call <em>me </em>desperate.”</p><p>Geralt laughed beside him. His voice was rich and relaxed.</p><p>“Don’t think they’ll mind.”</p><p>Golden eyes snapped back at him in a split second, wide and struck by a mixture of anger and shock. But he didn’t speak and Geralt thought he could push further.</p><p>“Jaskier once told me he fantasized about it, even.”</p><p>A grumble ensued, then a huff and a low grunt as the White Wolf shifted uncomfortably in his seat. At last, he muttered a few words. They were spoken under his breath but Geralt picked them up with ease.</p><p>“I bet Dandelion would pay to watch, too.”</p><p>An amused scoff. “He would.”</p><p>Silence fell between them once more. The wind howled above, shuffling the leaves of the trees surrounding the area further down their camping site. A deer slithered between the bushes and, sensing the witchers nearby, stomped its way down the hill in flight. The river was at the bottom of it, and Geralt began considering taking a dip to calm down whatever it was his body was starting to signal him.</p><p>“Fuck,” grunted the White Wolf, “I can <em>smell</em> you.”</p><p>“Shut it.” He pushed himself up on his feet. “Going for a swim.”</p><p>“And leaving me here to the wolves? Great plan,” muttered the other, “Or are you just running away ‘cause you’re too much of a coward to finish what you’ve started?”</p><p>Geralt hummed, facing his back to the other while dusting hay off the back of his neck. A chill ran down his spine when exposed to the cold wind. At this point, it was either dipping in the water or –</p><p>“Wouldn’t be against it,” Geralt said calmly, “But you’re too stuck up your own arse so I sort of assumed <em>you</em> would be the cowardly one of us.”</p><p>To his surprise, the White Wolf raised his head with a smirk, amber hues glimmering gold under the light of the fire.</p><p>“Are we going to beat around the bushes all night or do you have better plans?”</p><p>At that, Geralt turned entirely to face him.</p><p>“I have three. Four if you stopped talking.”</p><p> </p><p>xxx</p><p> </p><p>There was straining tension in the air, heavy with something the White Wolf could hardly pinpoint. It was different from when he was with Dandelion. It wasn’t charged with the intensity of a sexual encounter, nor was it what he felt towards Jaskier, which was more on the romantic side, desperate and aching for a love he could never have. No, <em>this</em> was different. This was curiosity, a strong, deep-rooted interest in what it was like to self-gratify.</p><p>“Would this be considered narcissism?” wondered Geralt out loud.</p><p>“You’re literally unlacing my breeches as you speak,” said the White Wolf, “A little too late for that.”</p><p>“Hm, no. That would involve self-love. We both know how that goes for both of us.”</p><p>The White Wolf rolled his eyes. “Way to ruin the mood.”</p><p>He was cut short when Geralt’s hand came palming him over the fabric. Het let out a low almost inaudible grunt and watched the fingers move up to graze the hem of the treated wound.</p><p>“Does it hurt?”</p><p>“How many times do I need to tell you I’m fine?” he insisted, “Are you always <em>this</em> sappy?”</p><p>“I care,” he said, “And you do, too. Can’t hide it from me.”</p><p>The White Wolf could hardly bring himself to stare at him, what with the closeness and all. The hand returned to cup his clothed cock, fingers tracing the outline of it, and the White Wolf suppressed a moan to settle for a sigh.</p><p>Of course, the bastard knew exactly how he liked it.</p><p>He didn’t expect physical nearness to be involved, not until Geralt’s body closed upon him, and his breath came hovering over his neck, inhaling him in like a predator does its prey. It made the hair at the back of his neck stand. He was not used to being at the <em>receiving</em> end of things – Dandelion would hardly count as he was drunk to his wits when he gave himself to him – least of all from himself.</p><p>“You smell different.”</p><p>“How?”</p><p>“I don’t know. Lighter.”</p><p>“You’re fucking with me.”</p><p>Geralt pulled away with a smirk.</p><p>“Maybe.”</p><p>The White Wolf could only take so much making fun of. He grabbed a handful of Geralt’s loose hair and tugged on it, resulting in the man’s chin lifting to expose his neckline. He edged the tip of his nose to the crook of his neck and inhaled.</p><p>The gush of a faint, sweet scent overwhelmed him at once.</p><p>“Fuck. This doesn’t make any sense.”</p><p>He loosened his hold around his hair and began pulling away when the hand around his cock squeezed, startling him.</p><p>“What part of <em>this</em> doesn’t make sense to you?” said Geralt, “We’re both hard and aching. Enjoy it while it lasts.”</p><p>He didn’t need any convincing. The White Wolf was aware of his raging erection, more of Geralt’s hand teasing it, but he still couldn’t bring himself to stare at him, to take in the sight of those white eyelashes, those loose strands, and that silver beard. It had thickened ever since they had been on the road together. Thin lips parted underneath and golden hues, sparkling with impatience, glared at him, a look he immediately understood was urging him to <em>do something</em>.</p><p>“Fuck it.”</p><p>His hand gripped the back of his neck and this time he <em>pulled</em>. Geralt’s knees sank into each side of his thighs, a groan of protest muffled when their lips came colliding. The sparking wave from earlier kicked in right away, but this time it wasn’t painful, or perhaps it was but it was what the White Wolf would consider <em>the good kind of pain</em>.</p><p>Whatever was happening, he could hardly believe he had been holding himself back from it until now. The urgent need to be as rough as he wished to without fearing to break his counterpart. Whores and bards aside, only another like him could truly take it. A realm of possibilities opened before him, of fantasies, of things he could <em>try. </em></p><p>But a wince was quick to remind him of his wounded state, and Geralt’s mouth left him with a desperate kind of longing, a need for <em>more</em>.</p><p>“You’re in pain.”</p><p>“I’m fine.”</p><p>“Did anyone tell you you’re fucking stubborn?”</p><p>“You can’t rile a man up and expect him to be <em>obedient</em>.”</p><p>“Riled up, huh?” he echoed, “Is that what this is?”</p><p>He grunted. “Just stop talking.”</p><p>His mouth returned to his with a surprisingly softer touch. Geralt kissed him like he was the finest, most fragile thing in existence, and the White Wolf could not deal with just how it tore at him inside out, how it made him feel so vulnerable, so exposed.</p><p>He hated to think that this was planned, that Geralt knew exactly what he was doing to him because he, too, was feeling it. He hated being peered right into, seen-through, like a shield of glass, so transparent and so breakable. It made discomfort settle into the pit of his stomach, and the longer it lasted, the more exposed he felt.</p><p>“Too slow,” he complained when their lips came parting.</p><p>“You like it slow.”</p><p>“I like it rough.”</p><p>“One doesn’t negate the other.”</p><p>“Skip the talking, get to the fucking.”</p><p>Geralt laughed breathily against him.</p><p>“Your side’s impaled, wolf. Nobody’s fucking anybody.”</p><p>“Your loss,” he scoffed, “Work your hand, then.”</p><p>“So bossy.”</p><p>Geralt’s calloused hand slithered under the layers of breeches and underwear, and wherever skin touched skin a light jolt ensued until thick fingers came seizing his cock, erect and pulsating, and the White Wolf saw sparks of white as they began moving along the sensitive strings of veins.</p><p>He caught Geralt touching himself to the view, upholding an identical rhythm until his thumb came grazing the tip, and to his utmost shame, he did not last. He spilled all over his lower abdomen and some of it clung to Geralt’s hand. He lifted his gaze on time to find the other’s eyelids half-hooded and his lips parted and he groaned while edging his own orgasm.</p><p>After that, the White Wolf’s memory was blurred. He was far too drained he dozed off. He felt Geralt’s touch lay on him two more times. Once to wipe his skin clean, then much later in the night, when Geralt came pressing against his back for warmth.</p><p>He did not remember falling asleep so comfortably in a long while.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Find me on tumblr under @skai6</p></blockquote></div></div>
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